The Eight Things About Erin Fisher
by Slipping-all-over-my-ships
Summary: George Weasley is not going to get in her way of success, because she is most certainly not in love with him. But Erin Fisher may get in the way of George Weasley, because George Weasley may be in love with her. Rated T. GW/OC. The image is Vincent Van Gogh's "Landscape at Auvers in the Rain".
1. Prologue

There are many different kinds of people who live at Hogwarts: gossips, well-wishers, gold-diggers, hopefuls, hard-workers, and inventors. But there is only one Erin Fisher. And there are eight particular things about her:

Erin Fisher is a pureblood. Both of her parents were Slytherins, as is she, and while the three of them believe they are above the ignorantly innocent minds of muggles, they do not see the point in raging war against them; it is a waste of time, energy, and magic.

Erin Fisher lies. A lot. Probably more than she tells the truth. She will lie to students, her parents, teachers, and muggles; she lies to stay hidden and innocent. And she is very good at it; perhaps too good. No one has seen through them, not yet. And of course, she does not want them to.

Erin Fisher does not need friends. She has never felt the need for a companionship; it is an unnecessary distraction from greater goals. Friends do nothing but hold someone down, she believes. Friends are there to collect your sympathy, money, and homework. Not to offer advice, thoughts, or humor, as rumored by Hufflepuffs.

Erin Fisher's family, though financially stable, is not as well off as she would like to be. She will be rich. Erin Fisher does not want to be rich, nor wish to be. She will be.

Erin Fisher is a chaser of the Slytherin Quidditch team, and has been since her third year. There are people who hate, envy, and lie to her because of it, but she knows who they are. And she has seen through their lies.

To the large majority of Hogwarts students and muggles her age, Erin Fisher is not beautiful, hot, or sexy, per se, but she is certainly not unattractive. Her freckled face with green eyes goes nicely with straight, thick, brown hair, but her face is odd. Her pointed nose and chin detract from the warmness. But that is alright. She does not need to be too attractive. That would only distract by bringing unwanted friends or admirers. Erin Fisher is self-supporting; she does not need nor want a boyfriend (no matter what the gossip Nicole White says). She saunters rather than walks, and her arrow-like chin is always jauntily pointed outward. The sly, one-sided smirk that masks her desires from the public has yet to be broken.

No one will break that smirk. Not her failing Quidditch team, not her Arithmancy professor, and most certainly not a fellow student.

And George Weasley is not going to get in her way of success, because she is most certainly not in love with him.

But Erin Fisher may get in the way of George Weasley, because George Weasley may be in love with her.

* * *

This story has been my baby for years now. It's gone through three-four versions, and I'm finally ready to post a little bit! Updates will take a while probably, but I'm going to aim for every other week. Please R&R!


	2. Chapter I

The first class of his day is found in the dungeon, the farthest one can possibly get from Gryffindor tower, and George was very, very late.

He threw robes on over his pajamas, not bothering to smooth out the lumps that appeared unnatural compared to his normal physique. George sprinted through corridors and down seven flights of stairs. _Where the hell is Fred? _His thoughts were racing as fast as he was. _I'm going to kill that kid_, he skidded to a halt at the Great Hall, but with a sigh, he determined there was no time to dart in for a slice of toast. Starting up again was hard, but once he got going, he was flying. George nearly smiled when he caught sight of the hallway that would lead him to Potions class (nearly). He turned the corner and slammed into the back of someone about a head shorter than him. He jumped up and offered a hand to whom he had knocked over. It was Erin Fisher.

"Watch where you're going, Weasley," She snarled.

"Pity," he muttered. "I had hoped you'd say something else,"

"Pardon?"

George rolled his eyes. "Everyone says that when you knock into them—"

"So you just knock into people all over the place? How noble…." She drawled.

"You always goes to the worst of a phrase, Erin."

"Well, _George_," she snarled, "_You_ always seem to go about doing your silly little pranks, and Quidditch," He tried to open his mouth to argue, but she continued. "And every once in a while, your mind wanders to beating me at either at Quidditch or with some stupid charm,"

She stood up, ignoring his hand, and brushed herself off. She lifted herself on her toes to reach closer to his eye-level and hissed- with that insufferable smirk plastered to her face- "But I am unbeatable," She turned on her heel and swaggered away, her head held high.

Fred appeared from behind a tapestry as soon as she turned into the classroom.

"Tough luck, mate," Fred said, clapping George on the back.

"Yeah," he sighed.

He grinned and added. "But at least you're on a first name basis now,"

He sniggered and disappeared before George could retaliate. "Bloody bugger," he muttered as he started toward the classroom again.

George entered the classroom and took his usual seat in front of Erin and beside Fred. Erin sat next to a girl named Naomi Young. Young was a half-blood, and her curly black hair often got in the way of the potion, most of the time causing a fire. Snape had been forced to give her and Erin multiple detentions for the same cause; it was a source of great entertainment for the worst class of the day.

Fred and George whispered and laughed behind their cauldron, even as the class fell quiet.

"Weasley," Snape said lazily. "Must I give you a detention before class even starts?"

"That depends, Professor," George piped up, "On which one of us you're talking to. I'm planning on blowing up Lee's cauldron over there, so I suppose you can just give it to me now and let that slide later. If you're talking to Fred though, I'd recommend holding out for a while. He's been real well-behaved lately."

The Gryffindors snorted into their arms and stifled their laughter behind cauldrons and friends, while the Slytherins rolled their eyes. Someone muttered, "And so it begins,"

This made George smile. The troublemaker reputation was fun in this class. It made Slytherins angry and enriched his ego. On the other hand, it also gave him a few more detentions than he would perhaps like. The actual idea of detention he didn't mind- it was the thought that it could be spent doing something so much more worthwhile that had him on edge every now and then.

Snape simply glared at him and turned to the board. "Today you will be making an antidote to the poison on the table here. You have one hour. Begin."

George went up to the table to get a poison sample, and Fred decided to strike up a "conversation" with Erin.

"Oi, Fisher," He hissed. She turned her head sharply to glare at him, then turned her attention back to Naomi Young's hair. "Fisher, I heard you and Flint are having a row,"

She stiffened slightly and placed a rat tail in their cauldron. After looking in the book again, she placed a few more.

"What are they rowing about?" George asked Fred as he set the poison and a few ingredients at their table.

Fred smirked. "She's mad because she wants to play us rather than Hufflepuff."

George raised his eyebrows. "Why? I'd like them to play too, but, why would she?"

"Dunno, that's what I was asking her. They got into a shouting match at the last practice and Flint tried to throw her off the team."

"What did you do Erin?" George leaned over the back of his chair to ask her.

She paused, then said nonchalantly, "Threw a quaffle at his head." They could see the smirk growing on her face.

Naomi laughed at this and said, "Serves him right, the git."

George laughed a little, and Fred grinned widely. "Did you put him in the Hospital Wing? Concussion? Bruise? Bump?"

Her smirk did not leave her face as she said, "Only a headache and a very swollen cheekbone,"

"So, how are you not off of the team?" Naomi asked.

Erin rolled her eyes. "There's no way he'd ever find a chaser as good as me,"

Fred snorted, and she turned quickly to face him. "If I recall, Weasley," She drawled, "You were complaining about the fifty goals I scored in last year's game,"

"23," George muttered.

"Against Hufflepuff," Fred sniffed, but they returned to their respective potions.

As the fumes rose in the classroom when people heated their potions, whispers became rare and barely audible through the hissing of the boiling liquid. George added a unicorn hair, and their potion turned a sickening green. "Fred," he whispered, "did you add a unicorn hair already?"

Fred shook his head, giving the potion a bemused look. "No. Dunno what's going on," He looked down at their books. "Damn," he muttered. "We didn't heat it enough at first, bet you anything."

The two of them stuck their heads over the potion, which was bubbling. Fred stood to look at Erin and Naomi's potion while George frantically flipped through the book for a solution.

"How high were we supposed to heat it?"

"Read the text, Weasley," Naomi muttered. She was chopping her mandrake root with intense concentration to get the correct ratio. "How the bloody hell am I supposed to make ten of these?" She sighed, and frustrated, pushed her wild hair back.

"Naomi, careful," Erin cautioned. She turned around to see Warrington's potion being heated. Naomi was leaning too far back. "Naomi!"

"What?" She turned to face Erin, and George could see her hair was on fire. Fred grabbed a vial of water and threw it at her, soaking her face but successfully putting it out. Naomi groaned as she inspected the ends of her hair. "That's it, I'm forming an I-Hate-Potions club," she muttered, petting her hair.

"Can I join?" Erin muttered, looking at her potion. Some of the water had splashed in it, and it turned a clear blue, and then waves began surge throughout the cauldron.

"Uh oh," Fred muttered.

The potion flew into the air and cascaded down on George, Fred, Naomi, Erin, and Warrington and his partner, who sat behind them. The six of them screamed as the boiling liquid scalded their skin. Snape waved his wand, and the burning sensation stopped, but they could see the effects on the others' skin.

"Hospital Wing," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'll deal with your detentions later,"

"Damn," both George and Erin said. They looked at each other, and George grinned at her, but Erin simply smirked.

"You have a bald spot Weasley," she said, and headed out the door. Naomi shrugged at him, and followed her out, Warrington and his partner close behind. Fred and George heard the two start to swear at Naomi the second Snape had moved on. Her biting retorts followed.

When the six of them arrived at the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey tutted them and ushered them all onto a bed. A few potions later, they headed to the Great Hall for lunch, walking in pairs, rather than a group.

* * *

I know I said every other week, but I just wrote about her birthday in another chapter, and guess what! It's today! So I thought I'd post. The next time I'm posting is on Sunday, July 7, but then I'm going to be on vacation, and you won't see me for a while. Thanks for dealing with my blabbering. As always, constructive criticism is welcome, flames are not, and compliments are. Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter II

It was a typical Wednesday for Erin, so she knew it would not be a good day: early morning quidditch practice, Herbology, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, and Charms. Then there was more Quidditch practice, and she usually served a detention on Wednesday for Naomi's hair. At the end, after she was finished with her homework, she normally didn't go to bed until after midnight, only to find she had two more school days to go.

She dressed quickly in some practice robes and snatched her broomstick moodily. "Bloody Flint," she spat out a word for each step as she headed to the pitch. "Rotten, sodding, bloody Flint,"

When she arrived at the pitch, she joined her teammates in a few laps on their brooms, and then they engaged in their specific training. After about 30 minutes, a figure appeared on the stands. She half expected it to be George Weasley, as he had made a habit of watching the practice to throw Erin off focus. However, Erin recognized him as Oliver Wood, captain for Gryffindor.

"Flint," she called out. "Wood's here,'"

"Take care of it," he called back, "I'm busy here," and he threw the quaffle at Dimitri Deast's head. Thankfully, a talented chaser himself, he caught it.

"You're the bloody captain, Flint," she said, crossing her arms.

"So do as I say, and tell him to get the hell out,"

Erin wrinkled her nose, but did as she was told, and flew over to Wood. "Hey, you're not supposed to be here during practice," she told him as she landed near him.

"The air clears my head," he said cooly, standing up and crossing his arms.

Erin rolled her eyes. "That's got to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard,"

"It's true,"

"I never said it wasn't," Erin smirked. She crossed her arms and leaned mostly on one leg- a signature cocky stance for her. "Now get out, we don't do anything in the mornings anyway,"

Oliver grinned slightly and sat back down, placing his arms behind his head and leaning backward. "Then go tell Flint-"

"Oi, Wood," came his voice.

"Speak of the devil," Wood sighed airily. "Alright, alright," he stood up, raising both arms. "I'm leaving," he turned, and Flint flew away again, a smirk etched on his face. "And George says 'hi,'"

Erin glared at him, and as she grabbed her broom, she said to herself, "Tell Weasley he's a goddamn lunatic, and he can come say 'hi' himself, so I can hex him in person,"

Wood grinned. "I will," and he turned away with his hands in his pockets as Erin rolled her eyes and took off.

Practice ended late, and by the time Erin got back to the castle, it was time for class, and there was none for breakfast.

The only good thing about Herbology class was that it was with the Ravenclaws, and most of them were tolerable. Erin often thought of them as Slytherins with no ambition. It was the worst sort of person to be, Erin supposed, but the easiest to deal with. That is, when they weren't fighting to answer the questions.

When Erin arrived at Herbology, she was dismayed to learn it was a practical lesson in Greenhouse 3. When she arrived there, she was even more disappointed to learn it was about Venomous Tentactulas. She shouldn't have been surprised; they had been learning about them all week. The problem was she could think of about a million other things better than grooming the bloody plant. It would probably try to 'groom' _them_ with its spiky tentacles.

Twenty minutes later, Erin said to Naomi, "If I had been speaking my thoughts aloud before this, you would find it as funny as I do," and smirked at their state. They each had several thorns wedged in their hair, and the leaves, with the slightly prickly edge, stuck to their arms and clothing. There were covered in tiny cuts and blood.

"It's my damn hair. I'm going to cut it all off," Naomi said, tugging at a thorn as they made their way to the hospital wing, "But I am also going to look on the bright side: no more Herbology for today!" Erin agreed aloud, but after inspecting the number of cuts on her arms, she wished she could have groomed the plant correctly. When she thought about what the rest of the day held for her, she was even less pleased: Transfiguration was next.

Erin had never been fond of Transfiguration, or Professor McGonagall. She admired her for her fairness, but always found her to be bland, as well as her subject. Her lecture that day was boring to say the least, but Erin didn't blame her; the anatomy of a pig versus a desk could never actually be interesting.

* * *

Professor Vector really could not dislike Erin Fisher more than she had since third year. She had gotten 100% on that first test, and claiming it was easy, continued to spite her with O's ever since. Professor Vector ground her teeth together at the sight of her nose buried in a book- not about Arithmancy.

"Ahem," she coughed, heading her way. "I only allow Arithmancy books in my class,"

"You're class hasn't started yet," Erin smirked at her and rolled her eyes.

Professor Vector glared at her. Her lips curled into an unfriendly smile as she snapped, "Put the book away for your attitude then,"

Erin raised her eyebrows and, keeping her smirk plastered to her face, gently closed the book, and dropped it on the ground next to her desk with a loud slap. With her hands curled into fists, Professor Vector stormed back to her desk. She hurriedly shoved a book (that seemed about the same size as Erin's) into one of her desk drawers.

Erin noticed this blatant embarrassment of her professor, and her smirk grew wider. Professor Vector glared at her, snapping questions at her whenever possible during the class, and she always answered correctly.

As soon as she stepped outside, she frowned. She was suddenly exhausted, and although she was grateful Charms was the only class she had left, the thought of hours of Quidditch with Flint and the rest of her team made her lip quiver.

However, when the other students arrived out of the classroom, the smirk returned to her face, and she settled for letting her eyes droop.

Objects flew all across the Charms room, and there were many quills and pieces of parchment stuck in Naomi's hair.

"I swear," she groaned as an ink bottle flew overhead, Flitwick's nuts if he thinks we're going to get summoning charms under control again for our O.W.L.s. They were bad enough last year!"

Another ink bottle smashed on the ground by Erin's feet, staining her robes. She attempted a cleaning charm at first, but then decided it wasn't worth it.

"I've got it, Fisher!" A Weasley twin called from the table across the aisle. He shot water from his wand, dousing her entire body.

"BLOODY HELL! WEASLEY!" She dove, tackling him to the ground, kicking and scratching him until Naomi pulled her off, and the other Weasley hauled his twin to his feet.

"Good Merlin!" Flitwick squeaked. "Well, I suppose you can all just go, it's nearly the end of class anyway,"

The class was chattering with their friends as Erin shoved her way through the crowd, hoping to get the the Quidditch Pitch early to shower before practice.

For whatever reason, Merlin seemed to side with her, as she was able to take a soothing hot shower before a grueling practice.

And grueling it was. Erin was nearly hit by a bludger three times, and once it nicked the end of her broomstick, sending her crashing into one of the goalposts. Rather than ask if his star chaser was alright, Erin noted, Flint roared with laughter, as the beaters looked sheepish. Oliver Wood returned, and Flint again sent Erin to get rid of him.

Erin flew over unwillingly, and plastered the smirk on her face to tell Wood to "get the hell out," or she'd "hex him to the moon and back," Wood simply rolled his eyes, saying he wasn't too worried anyway. Erin silently agreed. The Slytherin Quidditch team was more than embarrassing. The only reason they won any game was through foul play and her goals. After Flint yelled himself hoarse and Erin added twenty-two reasons to her list:_ Why I should be Quidditch Captain instead of Flint,_ the practice was officially over.

Erin hurried out of the locker room after changing into a school skirt and shirt. Once she was out of sight of rest of the team, she slowed to a shuffle and slouched her shoulders, wallowing in the fact that she had detention.

And who would turn the corner carrying a baguette and a peach but one of the Weasley twins?

Erin saw him, and straightened up immediately, changing her sluggish walk to a saunter. He rolled his eyes. "I brought you food," Erin approached him cautiously, accepting the baguette and eyeing it suspiciously. "Oh, relax," he said, "And wipe that infernal smirk off your face,"

Erin frowned for a moment, and then she broke into a lopsided grin, where half her teeth showed. George- the only twin that spoke to her that way-grinned at her, and she bit into the baguette.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"So today in charms," he started, and Erin turned to glare at him sharply. "It wasn't me! It was Fred. Lee suggested it and well, it went south from there,"

"I guess you never really call me Fisher," she said sullenly. "Why're you here, anyway? Not that I'm complaining, I guess," she said, gesturing to the baguette. The extremely simple food was just what she had been craving.

"Oliver told me you said to come and say 'hi' myself,"

Erin frowned, thinking of the morning, and the rest of the day flooded back to her, along with all the homework. "I hate Wednesdays," she muttered.

"Yeah, I'm not too fond of them myself. But I really hate Tuesdays,"

Erin agreed; she usually spent them dreading the next day. They soon arrived at the entrance to Snape's office. "So, thanks for the bread," she muttered shyly, clasping her hands behind her back and shuffling her feet around as she looked at the ground.

"You're welcome," he said, handing her the peach, and he left, turning the corner.

She turned the peach around in her hands to find a huge chunk bitten out of it. "Weasley!" She shouted, and she heard a round of laughter from where he had disappeared.

After the simple detention of lines, she meandered back to the dormitory, did any homework due the next day, and fell asleep. She would always hate Wednesdays, _but_, she decided, lying in bed, _they won't be so bad if Weasley keeps bringing me bread.._.."

* * *

Here you are, as promised! I didn't like this chapter at first, but once I added Oliver in I though it got better. Thank you for reading; reviews, follows, and favorites are appreciated more than you know!


	4. Chapter III

Erin wrung her hands together pacing outside Snape's office. When her fellow chaser, Dimitri Deast, left, giving her a nod, she stiffened, and entered his office. She sat opposite of him, and he asked her, "Well, what do you aspire to be?"

"I want to be-"

_I need to tell him, I need to tell him._ She chanted in her head. _Otherwise, he won't give me real advice._

A different voice argued back, **What real advice has he ever given you? Why does he need to know what you want to do with your life?**

_Well_-

**Right, he doesn't.**

**_"_**An arithmancer," Erin said, sinking back in her chair. The knot in her stomach grew tighter, and he raised an eyebrow.

"An arithmancer? Fine then, you'll have the grades for that. I would have though Quidditch interested you more,"

_"_Well, it doesn't," Erin snapped, and Snape looked at her. "Thank you, Professor, I'll be going now," She grabbed her grades sheet and hurried out of his office. The knot clenched in her stomach tighter than ever.

* * *

"So, _Erin_, what are you doing with your life?" George said, emphasizing her name as she did his a few weeks prior.

Erin ignored him (and the stomach knot, which appeared when anyone brought up the future), choosing instead to press her quill hard onto her charms essay. She had been in the library all day, and the majority of it had been spent doing a particuarly tricky essay on the summoning charm. O.W.L.s were drawing near, and Professor Flitwick had given them an essay on whichever charm they pleased. Erin had chosen summoning to help her study the charm, as she had never fully mastered it.

George let out an exaggerated sigh and dropped his books on the table, causing Erin to jump, and her quill to make a large mark on her essay. Her eyes narrowed, and violently striking the tip of her quill into the table so it stuck up, she stood, saying, "Listen up kid, because I'm only going to say it once."

"I'm older than you by about three months, so-"

_"_I have been studying my arse off for four and a half years now," She poked him in the chest every other word. "So if you are not out of this library in two seconds, I'm going to hex you so badly, you'll still be feeling it at your funeral,"

"Oh, come on," George rolled his eyes.

Erin drew her wand, and opened her mouth, "Helio-"

George turned and jumped behind a shelf, which sounded with a loud thud as there was a whizzing noise. He smelled smoke.

"FISHER!" There was a screech from Madam Pince, and George stayed crouched behind the shelf.

"Madam Pince, my wand bloody _exploded_! Weasley-"

"OUT!"

George peered through a few books to see Erin slowly gathering her things, looking glum rather than angry. There were some books on the floor with what looked to be a laser-like hole through the middle. Some of the lingering smoke dissipated, and there were a few flickering flames. As Erin went out into the hallway, George followed. She sank into a sitting position against the wall, and extended her legs. He sat down near her cautiously, and when she said nothing, he relaxed.

"Sorry," they mumbled at once.

_"_Why are you sorry?" George asked with his brow furrowed.

Erin shrugged. "I suppose potentially putting a hole in you isn't the most intelligent thing to do. That could probably get me in some legal trouble,"

It was George's turn to shrug, but he did so with a grin. "Holes would probably be a minor thing compared to the rest of my problems,"

She smirked, and leaned in to nudge his shoulder with her own. "What sort of problems does the fantastic George Weasley have? Besides having an eternal nine-year old mind, of course,"

"Well," he said, grinning wider, "For one, I'm not going to get any O.W.L.s, so I may be facing premature death by my mother."

Erin snorted. "Well if you did a little less bugging people and a little more homework, you wouldn't have that problem, would you?"

"Perhaps," George said thoughtfully. "On the other hand though, it's just so much easier to do pranks,"

"But where is that going to get you in life?"

I don't know," he groaned, bringing his hands to his head to run them through his hair, "We could...sell them?" He blinked, and shot into the air, causing Erin to jump. "That's it! We're going to open a joke shop! Ha!"

"George, you can't open a joke shop, that's-"

"Amazing! Simply amazing!" He grabbed Erin's hands and danced them around in a circle, Erin slightly unwillingly.

"Ha! I could kiss you!"

"Don't," she advised with a dull tone. George kept beaming, and dropped her hands to grasp her shoulders.

_"_You don't know what this means, do you?" He said, shaking her slightly. "It means no more school, no more what to do with our lives, we can open a joke shop!"

Erin stared at him, her brow slightly furrowed and her mouth barely containing a smirk. "Great," she croaked.

"I have to find Fred," he said gleefully. "Fred!" He shouted as he ran to the end if the hallway. "See you Erin, thanks! Fred!"

Erin heaved a huge sigh. "Bye," she muttered, and collected her books to head to the dungeons. "Stupid git," she added, to no one in particular.

* * *

O.W.L.s were quickly approaching, and the fifth and seventh years were in a frenzy. Chatty first years were getting hexed all over, and several people had been sent to the hospital wing for calming droughts.

Erin was in the library, pouring over her Arithmancy books and notes. It was her favorite subject, and despite her hatred for Professor Vector, she wanted to go on to the N.E.W.T. level.

Naomi appeared out of nowhere, slamming her Herbology books on the table. "I am so bloody sick of bloody bloody plants!" she screeched, tugging at the ends of her hair. Erin knew Naomi wanted to be a healer, and Herbology was a tricky subject for her, partially due to her hair. "What about potions?" Erin asked.

"Oh, I looked up some hair charms, and I should be able to get it back up in a plait with a little help from you,"

Erin smirked, thinking of their latest detention from Professor Snape, in which Warrington tried to shove Naomi's hair out of the way of his ingredients, and ended up knocking his potion all over himself. He had blamed it entirely on the two girls provoking him. Erin felt the three nights of lines were worth seeing giants boils all over his head.

"Aren't you nervous?" Naomi asked, opening a charms book from third year.

Erin shrugged. "Really, I don't care about school," she said quietly, so only Naomi could hear. "I want to play Quidditch,"

Naomi's eyes widened. "Really? That's-"

"Crazy?"

"Well, I was going to say brilliant, but crazy works too," she grinned at Erin, who smiled back at her.

A great wave of feeling washed over her. Someone knew. Someone knew how important quidditch was to her, and she wasn't going to use it against her.

Relief.

* * *

A few days later, it was Naomi pouring over her notes in the library as Erin collapsed in the chair next to her. "I think the world is over,"

Naomi snorted. "Why? Because I'm studying Ancient Runes of all things?"

Erin smirked. "Well no, but that's a contributing factor. I just saw the Weasley twins, studying,"

Naomi let out a low whistle and closed her book with a snap. "I need some air, want to come with?" Erin nodded, and they packed up their books and stepped outside to circle the lake.

* * *

A few tedious weeks filled with nervous meltdowns, an embarrassing Quidditch final, and too many calming droughts, O.W.L.s were over. Everyone let out a sigh of relief, knowing the results wouldn't come until July.

Frankly, Erin thought as she soared around the Quididitch Pitch, I really couldn't care less.

* * *

Back from vacation! I hope you enjoy this chapter, I think I like some other ones better but... Right, so I know that the subjects, (like math, english, science, etc.) are not capitalized unless they are specific courses, but I do it so my computer does not yell at me. I will most likely post in a few days before college application season starts up, yikes! Sorry for the lengthy note, amd thank you very much for reading and hopefully enjoying my story (baby). Please review!


	5. Chapter IV

The Quidditch World Cup was the greatest event to happen every summer, and George was finally going to see it. Ireland and Bulgaria: probably one the the biggest rivalries, and it would happen at the cup.

He couldn't stop grinning as his father set up the tent. Once it was up, Mr. Weasley decided to busy himself with matches, and Fred and George went to look at the merchandise. They didn't buy anything, as they had bet Ludo Bagman on the match.

After looking at the ominoculars, Fred caught the eye of a very pretty light-haired girl, and they split up for a bit. It wasn't long until George found someone to entertain him: Erin Fisher.

"Hey," He said, approaching her with his hand deep in his pockets. He was surprised to see her wearing normal muggle clothing: (very short) khaki shorts and a green Ireland shirt.

She pursed her lips, purposefully not looking at him. "Hello," George turned to see her intently eyeing an Ireland sweatshirt on a cart. "My tent is freezing," she explained.

"Mine smells like cats," he said, and she snorted a laugh. They somehow started to wander through the crowds at a lazy stroll. "Happy to be here?" George tried a stab at conversation, trying to ignore the length of her shorts.

Luckily, the Quidditch atmosphere seemed to put her in a good mood, and she responded, "Wouldn't miss it for the world. Ireland's playing!"

He nodded. "I like Ireland, but their seeker's trash,"

Erin sniffed. "Only compared to Krum. And that guy's a bloody genius,"

George agreed, and continued, "Hypothetically, if I asked you what you were really thinking about, would you answer truthfully?"

"Well," she said slowly, drawing her hands together behind her back and grinning slyly up at him, "If I, hypothetically, really, really, wanted that Ireland sweatshirt would you buy it for me? And I'll pay you back someday,"

George grinned. "Hypothetically, I would ask you what size. In reality, I'm broke."

Her grin slipped. "Fine,"

"I spent it all on a bet with Ludo Bagman," he explained, regretting it the moment her grin faded. "Maybe I can help you get it somehow anyway."

"I am not going to rob the poor man,"

"Maybe we can find enough change on the ground. Its only a few galleons."

Erin sighed, and turned to look at the sweatshirt. "It's worth a shot, I suppose,"

"Worth a shot?" He exclaimed, "Why, you're in for a surprise! You won't even believe how many knuts you find lying around a place like this," he grabbed her hand and half-ran, dragging a laughing Erin through the crowd and to a mass of souvenir stands. After the first knut they found, Erin would not stop smirking.

"I am going to be bloody rich one day, you know," she whispered as she fingered the knut excitedly. George was taken back. She had never acted like this around him- around anyone- before. She was talking of the future, picking up forgotten change from the ground, "I don't know how, and I don't know exactly when, but it'll happen. You just wait and see."

With each knut or the occasional sickle, she would shoot a lopsided grin at him.

George never wanted to find enough coins.

But they did, and it was a bittersweet ending for George. She was happy, hopefully no longer cold, but they had to part. She shot that one-sided grin at him, wearing her new dark green sweatshirt. The sleeves were long, and she covered her hands with them, and left, not saying anything. He grinned when he saw her stoop to pocket a sickle.

As George turned away, he thought he ran into a mirror for half a second; it was Fred, staring at him, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. "Come on, you're just going to let her treat you like that?"

George merely shrugged, and Fred let out a frustrated sigh. "She doesn't even- she's not even-ugh! Would you do something for me this year?" When George nodded, he continued, "Can you just _try_ and get over her this year?"

George looked at him blankly. Finally, he nodded slowly, and Fred, letting out a sigh, wove an arm around his twin's shoulder. "Great! We're going to win that bet for sure! I just caught a glimpse of Krum warming up in the sky..."

* * *

Hours later, Erin was hurrying through the forest, trying to keep away from the crowds. Suddenly she ran into a girl, probably about two or three years younger than her, with flaming red hair. It was practically glowing in the dark.

The girl let out an "oomph," as she fell on her back.

"Sorry," Erin muttered, and she offered a hand.

The girl took it, saying, "Have you seen anyone else? Possibly with hair like mine?"

Erin shook her head. "Everone's running all over in that direction," she pointed to her right. "I'm trying to keep out of the crowd; that's what the Death Eaters would go for if they followed us into the forest, yeah?" The girl agreed, and Erin continued. "Let's just walk, maybe your family will see sense and head this way,"

They did so, and Erin realized the girl reminded her of someone. "You don't happen to be a-"

"Weasley? Yes, I am," she said proudly, straightening up and glaring at Erin, as if daring her to say something.

Erin settled for muttering, "Your twin brothers are lunatics,"

The girl laughed, and noted, "Yeah, the question is, which one's loonier?"

"George," Erin said automatically, and the girl laughed.

"I think most people would say Fred,"

Erin wrinkled her nose. "He's not the one who's always bugging me though,"

In the dim light, Erin could see her look at her strangely and then smirk. When they heard shouts from behind them, the pair could see flaming red hair. "Speak of the devil," Erin said so only the girl could hear. "I'm going to go find my dad, thank Merlin my sister and mum weren't here. Good luck with your-"

"Ginny!" One came and scooped her up in his arms. "Where the hell did you go! We-"

"Maybe you should take better care of your sister," Erin could not help but say as he noticed her, crossing her arms and leaning on her right leg. "She could've gotten hurt,"

"I'm thirteen years old-"

The twin's nostril's flared and he took a step forward, ushering Ginny behind him. "Like you would know, you don't even have a sister,"

Erin smirked. "I'll have you know I have an eleven year-old sister who will be joining us at Hogwarts this year, and I take very good care of her."

The twin rolled his eyes, and the other moved to hold Ginny protectively as spells were cast in the distance. "I'll believe that when I see it,"

Erin glared at him, and turned at the sound of her name. "That's my dad. Watch your mouth Weasley, or I'll hex it off," and stormed away. There was a loud crack, and she and her dad were gone.

"Just stay away from that girl, she's a good for nothing Slytherin," the twin holding Ginny said to her.

"Nice try," she snorted, breaking free from his grip. "She told me you always bug her, George," and Fred gave him a look. "And I know what that means, even if _she_ doesn't,"

* * *

Hello! Back again. Thank you all for reading, please review, follow, etc.

Lots of love!


	6. Chapter V

Erin had a dark-haired little sister, named Abigail, and she was indeed starting Hogwarts this year. Erin and her sister had never been close as friends due to their age difference, however, it was clear Abigail admired her, and that Erin cared for her.

On the platform, after they had said goodbye to their parents, Erin helped Abigail pull her trunk onto the train. "Erin," Abigail said, "You promise you don't care if I'm not in Slytherin?"

Erin smirked. "You could be a Hufflepuff for all I care." She said. "But," she continued, placing her finger under her sister's chin, "I need you to hold you head up high, love," she tilted it so her chin was jauntily outward, as Erin's was. "Someday, people will kill to see you fall," She couldn't help but provide the over-used quote. It seemed fitting advice for a first year; she'd given it to herself, even.

All Abigail did was nod ferociously, and Erin left her alone in the compartment to find Naomi.

Erin smirked at Naomi as she joined her in an empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express. They caught up quickly, and after the food trolley came by, Naomi asked, "Are you Quidditch Captain this year?"

Erin frowned and shook her head. "Flint is our age. They picked him once, and they're not going to replace him with me, no matter how horrible the team is."

Naomi let out a frustrated sigh. "It's unbelieveably unfair! You'd be a brilliant captain, and all he does is let Malfoy bribe him and yell,"

Erin grimaced, but said nothing. She settled for questioning Naomi on a Ravenclaw that had been eyeing her towards the end of the year. Blushing furiously, Naomi had said, "Oh, hell. Don't you have Weasley to worry about?"

Erin's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, all the boy does is prank people and follow you around," Erin felt her stomach drop. "He's got to-"

"Weasley doesn't _fancy_ me," she crossed her arms. Erin said this with such finality and so scathingly that Naomi let it drop immediately, and launched into an explaination of her holiday in France.

"By the time we got back to our room, it was completely destroyed! That bloody owl is a menace, I tell you,"

Erin smirked at the thought of an owl frightened by storms, and then asked, "Oh! How were you're O.W.L.s?"

"I got an O in potions!" And Erin raised her eyebrows in shock. "Snape'll be happy to know I'm back in his class," she let out a laugh, then her grin faded as she continued,"But I only got an A in herbology. It's the only thing I needed for healing..."

Erin frowned for her friend's sake. "I got an A in that as well, but don't worry. Sprout is a pushover, I'll bet if you talked to her at dinner tonight, she'll let you in." When Naomi looked cheered and nodded, Erin continued, "And I got an O in Arithmancy! Take that, Vector, you bloody, horrid, woman."

Naomi laughed, and they moved on to eating their chocolate frogs in a comfortable silence.

* * *

Erin craned her neck to get a good look at the first years. Abigail was standing in line, her chin angled outward. She was standing next to a light haired boy, who was muttering something to her. Abigail smiled. As the first years were called up, her friend, Calvin Albright, was sorted into Gryffindor. The rest of Slytherin booed and jeered as Erin rolled her eyes. When Abigail Fisher was called, she was sorted into Ravenclaw almost instantly. Erin didn't realize her fists were clenched until she relaxed them. Ravenclaw, she thought, relieved, for some odd reason. _She wasn't in Slytherin. _She kept thinking,_ Thank Merlin._ She didn't think it was for her own sake.

Hours later, Erin lay in bed, thinking about the Triwizard Tournament. She wasn't old enough to enter anyway, but she thought it was silly to bring a contest to a school where most people couldn't enter. The people from the other schools intrigued her, but not to the extent of Naomi. She had been so enamored from the people from Durmstrang, and wanted to be friends with all of them.

_I don't need the money anyway,_ Erin thought. _By the time I'm set and done, that'll be pocket change..._

* * *

_Clovers! _Erin thought brightly, as she caught sight of a patch nearby her study spot. She was taking advantage of the good weather and doing her Arithmancy essay outside. It was a windless and cloudless day, and the sun beat down on the students. Most of them, including Erin, had stripped down to their white polos and skirts or trousers.

She eagerly raked her fingers through the pile, searching for a four-leaf. Luck did not seem to be with her however, as she soon gave up. She finished her essay, and headed inside for dinner. In the entrance hall, Abigail came running up to her.

"Erin!" She called, and a few of the many standing in the hall turned to look at her.

Erin gave her sister a look, and she quieted down. "Look what I found you!" She held up a four-leaf clover. A few of the people sniggered, and Erin glared at them, noticing both Flint and Warrington.

Erin wrinkled her nose, and Abigail looked surprised. She slung her bag higher onto her shoulder, and took the clover from Abigail. With a smirk pressed firmly in place, she plucked one of the leaves off, and let it fall to the ground. Flint and his followers stopped laughing as she gave Abigail the three-leaf clover back, and brushed past her into the hall.

Her smirk quivered as she saw Abigail's face fall, but she was able to contain it. She grabbed a spoonful of potatoes and moodily pushed them around on her plate.

After some forced conversation with Naomi, where Erin was dying to go find her sister, she stood up, and walked at a brisk pace into the entrance hall. Casting around her mind for a place to look first, she settle on the library.

She practically sprinted there, and after searching behind all the shelves and tables, she stormed out. Her mood turned frantic as she realized she was probably in Ravenclaw tower, and she had no idea where it was.

Just my luck, she thought bitterly, and clenched her teeth at her choice of words. She climbed up several flights of stairs, hoping to find some Ravenclaws, but failed.

She had been watching her feet aimlessly, when, through a trick stair, a flash of red hair caught her eye, and she quickly followed it.

"Weasley!" She called, and he turned to raise an eyebrow at her. "Do you know where the Ravenclaw common room is?" He nodded, his expression blank. "So where is it?" He snorted, and turned to keep walking.

"Weasley!" She called after him, running to catch up and stand in front of him. He tried to go around her, but she skidded left and right until he stopped. "Please," she said, grasping the front of his robes. "I really need to find my sister, she's hurt, please, Weasley? I'll do whatever you want, just tell me where it is!"

He had the most confused expression on his face, and turned around to head up the stairs. "Oh, come on!" Erin shouted at him. She was growing more desperate by the second. "Have a heart! What do you want from-"

"I'm leading you there right now, Fisher, let's go," he called, and she heard him let out a laugh.

She couldn't help it. She broke into a wide grin, and hurried up after him. "Thank you! Thank you so much, erm, Fred?"

He grinned and nodded. "Good job, not many people can do that,"

Erin smirked, "Well, your twin hasn't called me 'Fisher' since third year,"

"Yeah that was when he-" Fred stopped himself, faking a cough (which she knew) but continued, "Sorry. Third year he decided to be nicer, Merlin knows why..."

Erin nodded, and her impatience got the best of her. "How much farther?"

"We've only gone up two staircases,"

"Well, which floor is it on?" She demanded.

Fred rolled his eyes. "It's in a tower. Why do you need your sister so badly anyways?"

At this, Erin grew sheepish. She frowned, and finally said, "I just hurt her feelings, that's all,"

"What, and you're sorry for that? I permanently scarred my brother against spiders and I've never looked back,"

She muttered something unintelligible, and with some prodding from Fred, Erin shrugged. "Well, it was mean, and I- I have to apologize,"

At this, Fred gave her the oddest look so far, and she could not decipher it for the life of her. He looked to Erin like a mixture of confused, shocked, and betrayed, like she'd done something wrong. She just wanted to apologize to her sister, what was so horrible about that?

As they continued to climb the stairs in silence, Erin grew nervous. What if she's not there? Or we can't get in, or she won't even see me? Merlin, she gasped, What if-

"Here it is," Fred threw an arm out to stop her as they faced a blank wooden board.

"What's the password?" Erin asked, but Fred shook his head.

"It's a question," he explained. "We've never answered one right, so we've never gotten in."

Erin nodded, and turned to face the wooden patch. A bronze knocker appeared, and it said in a cool, female voice, "If I say, 'Everything I tell you is a lie,' is it a truth or a lie?"

Fred frowned as he tried to work out the logic in his head. "What sort of bloody question is that?"

"I don't think she needs a straight answer," Erin said, thinking. She had to give the Ravenclaws credit; this was hard. "Neither..." she said, trailing off. " But I think it should have to be a lie, because, you cannot possibly lie about everything,"

"Relatively insightful," she said, and the door swung open.

Fred and Erin gave each other bemused looks and headed inside. True to their stereotype, most were too involved in homework or books to notice a Gryffindor and Slytherin step in at the same time. There were many nooks along the edge of the tower, and Erin spotted her sister right away. She stormed over there, and sat across from her sister. When she took no notice, Erin placed her hand on her book and steadily lowered it, to see her sister's face.

Her eyes were red and puffy, and her nose was dripping. Erin took a tissue from her school bag and wiped it clean for her. Abigail sniffed. "Why would you do that?"

"There were so many-" Abigail burst into tears, and when Fred finally approached them, Abigail buried her head in his chest. He looked taken back, but attempted to comfort the first year all the same.

'What did you _do_?' He mouthed over her head. Erin stroked Abigail's hair, as she knew she liked the feeling, and shook her head at Fred.

"You just-" Abigail hiccuped. "Just tore it up. We love clovers, and you- you-" she broke into a fresh round of tears, and Fred looked lost as he tried to ease the girl he'd never met in his arms.

"Abby," Erin whispered. "I had to! There was Flint, he'd make me do laps or Warrington would blow up my potion. I'd never live some four-leaf clover down."

"All you do is smirk," Abigail sniffed, and lifted her head from Fred's chest. "Sorry," she muttered, as she brushed his sweater, attempting to get rid of the tear stains.

Erin frowned, and with a look from her sister, she softened, and half-grinned at her. "Well, if you forget about this clover incident, and promise to stay away from any and all Slytherins," she paused, waiting to see if Abigail was listening intently, and she was. "I suppose," she continued with a now begrudging tone, "I can try and smirk a little bit less," Abigail's face lit up, and she threw her arms around her sister, who sighed in relief.

"Come on, let's get you a pepper-up potion from Madam Pomfrey," Erin said. "Otherwise you'll just get a massive headache."

The three of them (Fred still in shock) headed out of the Ravenclaw common room. As they exited, Fred opened his mouth to say something to Erin, but though better of it. She held out a hand, "Thank you," she said soflty and Fred took it.

Fred pulled her into slight hug and hissed, "What the hell are you doing in Slytherin, anyway?"

She swiftly kicked his shin in response, and as he let out a satisfying. "OW! BLOODY HELL!" She smirked, and held her sister's hand all the way to the Hospital Wing.

When Fred arrived in his dormitory, George sat up on his bed where he'd been laying down, tinkering with a fanged frisbee. "Where have you been mate? Thought you were going to get a pumpkin pasty,"

Fred nodded, and sat down on his bed, rubbing his shin, but grinning all the same. "Remember what I told you at the cup?" When George nodded, he continued, "Forget it," which had George deep in thought until early morning.

* * *

Ahem: "To minor authors is left the ornamentation of the commonplace: these do not bother about any reinventing of the world; they merely try to squeeze the best they can out of a given order of things, out of traditional patterns of fiction." -Nabokov, "Good Readers and Good Writers", meaning I can make Flint the same age as Erin Fisher, amd I can make them play Quidditch during the Triwizard Tournament. Please R&R!


	7. Chapter VI

Erin Fisher headed down to the Quidditch pitch one cold, October night. She was late for her practice, tired, and hungry. After staying after class for yet another detention due to Naomi's hair, she had fallen down a flight of stairs and had to help herself to the hospital wing. Due to that fiasco, she missed dinner, and Madam Pomfrey didn't want to send her to practice. "That soreness potion will wear off, and you do not want to be sitting on a broomstick when it does!" She had shouted after Erin, who stalked out of the Wing, arms at her sides, until she realized the time and broke into a sprint for the pitch. Snape was watching it tonight, and he didn't take excuses.

Erin flew through the door (panting grotesquely) and caught sight of Flint with his arms crossed. Snape stood to the side—looking bored as hell to Erin—with his arms across his chest.

"Fisher," Flint drawled.

"I can explain," Erin gasped, clutching her side, which had begun to ache with a cramp. She bent over to pant, and caught a flash of red hair behind the door.

"Laps, twenty. Because you're twenty minutes late to practice."

Erin, recovered and standing straight up, simply crossed her arms and smirked. "Flint, by the time I run twenty laps around the pitch, practice will be over. So tell me, what is the point of that?"

Flint grinned maniacally at her. "Fine, you can do them after practice. Or you're off the team."

"Flint!" Her voice cracked as she shoulders slouched. "Professor," she whined, turning to Snape.

Snape looked down at her. He had never favored either of them to the extent of say, Draco Malfoy, but Flint was still captain, and although Erin was the best chaser, she was still just a chaser.

"Fisher." He retaliated coolly. "Flint is your captain, and you'd do best to listen to him. Flint," he turned away from Erin, who sank at his response. "You are captain," Flint rose and stood up straighter, beaming at his professor. "But if you did a little less punishment and a little more practice, your team might have won the cup more, ah, concisely in previous years."

"Fine," Flint muttered, going red. "Ten then."

They both left, Flint towards the pitch and Snape towards the castle, and Erin turned away from the pitch, to the bleachers. "Weasley, if you are not out of here by the time I am done, you are going to be in for the hexing of your life."

Erin turned, and despite her rage, she plastered a smirk on her face, and sauntered towards the center of the pitch to grab the Quaffle from Flint.

Because no one was supposed to break that smirk. And no one can see through her lies.

By the time practice was done, Erin was even more tired and hungry than earlier. And to top it all off, as Pomfrey said, the potion had worn off, and Erin could barely move without wincing. It was also dark out, and the sky threatened snowfall.

Nevertheless, she began her laps without complaint.

As her feet began to thud on the ground, she began her countdown. _One, one, one_, she chanted in her head for each footfall. Soon, she could chant two. She did not slow down when she began to breath exceptionally hard. On lap three, it turned dark and started to snow.

"Bloody… brilliant," she managed to huff to herself. The snow slowed her progress on one side and froze her back on the other. The flurry was thick and clung to her lashes and mouth. She brought her scarf up to her face and wished desperately for a thick and warm sweatshirt and a glowing fire. Lap eight, her entire face was numb, along with her hands, even with her gloves on. They were, after all, only chasers gloves, and there were numerous aerating holes along the edges. It felt as though her entire body was going to collapse in protest.

_Nine, nine, nine_, Erin thought. _Almost done_. There were literal icicles forming on the hem of her robes, and inches of snow now covered the grass.

"Ten," she gasped, and broke into a sprint for the last lap. It was over, and she did not stop to bend over in pain and sickness. Instead, she finished her sprint into the castle, snatching her broom on the way, and then doubled over in pain from cramps. Erin leaned over to vomit, and realized she couldn't; she hadn't had anything to eat. She rubbed her shoulder, stood up straight and smirked.

Looking around to check that no one was around, she allowed her shoulders to slouch, and relaxed her mouth. She let out a small sob, and started towards the Slytherin common room, dragging her dripping broomstick.

It was taking Erin a remarkably large amount of time to trudge to the dorm room, and she could not stop herself from sniffling. Perhaps it was because she was still partially frozen, or maybe because she had fallen countless times because of the puddles that formed under her from the half that had melted.

The common room still seemed miles away, when there was a great Umph! and Fred and George Weasley fell out from behind a tapestry, right at her feet.

"'Ello Fisher!" One said.

Erin straightened up immediately, and strode over them, arms clenched at her sides.

"Hey, wait!" The other one said, and they scrambled over each other to get up and reach her. Erin ignored them.

"Oi, Fisher!" The first called. "Wait up!"

They hurried after her and stood on either side, easily matching her lengthened stride.

"Go away," she muttered, sniffed, and turned sharply into the dungeons. They managed to stay on either side of her.

"Why are you frozen?" One asked.

Her anger flared, and against her better judgment, she stopped and turned to face the two twins. "Like you don't know, hanging around the pitch when Slytherin is about to start practicing isn't something I take likely. Did you think you were going to get our game plan?"

"Woah," One of them said, "We were just messing around, there's no reason to—"

There was a shuffle and low meow. "I hear them too, my sweet, dripping all over my floors again, huh?"

Erin gasped, and her breath hitched in her throat. "If I get another detention, my father's going to kill me!" She said with her voice cracking.

One of the twins grabbed her wrist and the other threw open a portrait that said nothing in protest. Erin assumed it was a regular thing. The three of them stepped inside, and Erin found herself sandwiched between the two Weasley twins.

She faced one, and her back was pressed up against another. "You couldn't have found a different hiding spot with room for more than one person?" Erin hissed.

"Hey," the one in front of her said. "Be grateful. And we're all fitting."

"Barely," the one behind her gasped, and he pushed Erin further into the one in front of her."For someone without much of an arse, you sure take up a lot of room,"

"Watch it," the one in front said. Erin noticed his face was getting all red. It was extremely hot in their little alcove. Erin thought it felt nice; after all, she was still thawing.

"Ew, you're getting me all wet," The one behind her said.

"Listen you conceited little brat, I—"

"Shush," the other whispered. "He's coming. And I resent that 'little' comment, because I am the same size,"

Erin was pressed very close to the twin in front of her by the twin behind her. He pushed her shoulder blades into the other's chest, and she did not know where to put her hands. She settled for turned her head slightly and attempting to glare at the twin that continually pushed her. The twin in front of her had his hands awkwardly up in the air, as he tried to suck in his stomach, but it only allowed Erin to be pushed even closer to him.

She heard a soft sound from the wretched cat. Filch allowed her to sniff around, and she prayed that they would not think to look behind the painting. During the seemingly endless time, the one behind her was seething at being so wet, and despite her silent bodily protests, pushed her further against the other. There was no space between them, and Erin was beginning to feel very hot.

After what seemed like hours, Filch led his cat away, and when his shuffling footsteps could not be heard, the three of them pushed out from behind the portrait. Erin was suddenly very cold. She resisted a shiver and turned around to face the twin behind her. "Could you be any more of a prat?" She screeched.

He seemed unperturbed by her anger and instead was looking over her shoulder. Erin spun around to see the other twin looking far too innocent to not have been doing something. He seemed to be a little bit angry too, from what Erin could see.

She turned back around to face the twin that was behind her. "You were getting me wet," he whined.

"Merlin forbid," Erin muttered. "If you weren't pushing me, you wouldn't have melted me so much and you wouldn't be as wet!"

The other Weasley went to stand by his brother. "Come on, Erin," he sighed. "Let's just move on. We did help you, after all."

It was George. Only George called her by her first name. The one that was being a downright idiot was Fred then, Erin deduced. She huffed. "Well, thank you," she said stiffly. "Good luck getting back to Gryffindor tower," she smirked, and turned to saunter away.

"You do realize," one of them called after her, "that is the way Filch went?"

Erin stopped in her tracks. "Damn," she whispered to herself.

"If you want," The other one called, "we can take you right outside the Slytherin common room? There's a passage right around the corner here,"

Erin turned slowly, churning it over in her mind. "In in exchange for what?"

"Nothing, I guess," they shrugged. She hesitated, and then nodded in agreement. They grinned and stood on each side and frog-marched her back up the hallway towards the basement. There was a large depiction of a fruit bowl that hung low to the ground. One of the twins tickled the pear in the painting and it giggled and opened slowly, revealing the kitchens.

"I thought you said Slytherin common room," Erin said, her eyes narrowed. They looked at each other, at a loss for a response. Erin began to smirk, but a loud protest from her stomach gave her away. "Fine," she muttered, looking longingly into the kitchen. The twins grinned. One of them headed into the kitchen, and one of them looped their arm around her shoulders. Despite her violent protests at the sudden heat, he would not budge. So she allowed him to lead her into the kitchen. She wished she hadn't gotten them mixed up again.

When asked what she wanted from the house-elves, she responded with "Anything," and they showered her with éclairs, chicken, vegetables, sandwiches, and pasta. She ate it all. Erin gave the house-elves a begrudging thank you, and allowed the twins to usher her out the kitchen. It was very late by then, and if they didn't get busted by Filch for tracking water and mud throughout the castle, then they would surely be in trouble because of a teacher or prefect out doing rounds.

Erin followed the twins (nervously searching the hallway for prefects or teachers) up a flight of stairs to a different tapestry.

"Don't you two do any schoolwork?" She asked, slightly amused.

They looked at each other. "No, not really," they said in unison.

Erin laughed, against her will of course, and followed them into the passageway. She noticed one of them was beaming, and the other was only slightly amused. After a little bit of walking, they pushed past another tapestry and Erin found herself looking at the entrance to the Slytherin common room. She turned around to say something, although she didn't really know what it would be (maybe defend the size of her bum), but they were gone. Looking around one last time, she shrugged her shoulders and gave the wall the password.

She fled upstairs, ignoring the passionate couple on the couch, and changed into a sweatshirt.

She laid down on her bed, resisting the urge to fall asleep for a few moments. She thought about how hot it had been in that portrait, and tried to recapture the warmth. It didn't work.

Maybe she'd tell Naomi. But then again, it was just so much easier to lie.

Hey! This was the second part I ever wrote of the story, and it used to be my favorite one, but I'm seriously so sick of reading it. Let me know what you think, please! And hey! Follow me on Tumblr! .com and I'm going to change to make that my pen name, just so you know. Thank you so much, please R&R!


	8. Chapter VII

The Yule Ball was all anyone would talk about. Since Snape announced to Slytherin house that there was a ball, everyone was worrying about dates or groaning about it.

Abigail had asked Erin a total of 32 times whom she was going with. Each time, her patience withered, and she would snap a "no one," and hurry away, so she wouldn't ask about George bloody Weasley.

One day, she hurried right into Dimitri Deast. "Listen," he said frantically, looking behind him. "Daphne Greengrass? The Fourth year? She won't bloody leave me alone! Go with me, will you?"

Erin smirked. "Sure,"

He grinned. "Excellent. I owe you one!" He called as he ran away, catching up to his other classmates.

Fred had asked George a total of 32 times whom he was going with. Each time he would roll his eyes and say a different girl's name. One day, he said, "Alicia Spinnet," and that said girl came over and flicked his head.

"You never asked me, you dunce," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Would you go to the ball with me?"

She laughed a "yes," and George turned to shrug at Fred. "Who're _you_ going with?"

* * *

People were asking people right and left, crossing school and house boundaries. Some would say they didn't want to go, then get asked and gleefully pronounce their dates hours later. Practically the whole school was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas.

Finally, it arrived. Erin met Dimitri in the common room, and he offered her his arm. She smirked at Daphne for good measure, who was seething with her date, a fifth year Slytherin. He had worn dark grey robes, and she navy. They shimmered in the light, which had caught her eye in the store that summer.

At the ball, after the somewhat awkward opening dance by the champions, Erin and Dimitri went out to dance.

"Um, I don't really know how," she had confessed as he took her hand.

"I can teach you," he said, laughing it off. And he did, very well, to Erin's surprise. She would have to add him to the list of people who would make a better captain than Flint.

They danced, and made their way over to a larger group of Slytherins, consisting mostly of the team and their dates. After a short argument with Flint, Erin said to Dimitri, "I'm going to get some air," and he nodded absentmindedly, his eyes locked on a pretty blonde Erin didn't recognize.

She went out to the gardens, avoiding a few couples, and settled down on a bench. She took out her wand and fiddled with it. The dance was fine, but that was all, just fine.

"Bored, eh?"

Erin shrugged at the voice of George Weasley. She was not surprised to find him wandering around alone, possibly pranking couples. He joined her on the bench and extended his legs, leaning back.

"I didn't really want to go anyway, Dimitri needed a favor,"

"So you went so he owes you?"

"Well, that's what friends do. They need favors or sympathy or money or pity or-"

"Friends don't do that,"

"Oh, like you would know. You don't even have friends. All you have is your stupid brother,"

George shrugged. "I can be friends with siblings,"

"I suppose. Either way, that's all they're there for. They just-"

"Want something? Wrong, they can offer something also,"

Erin rolled her eyes and leaned back like George. "Like what?"

"Advice, favors, I guess. Jokes, or someone to talk to,"

"But then you just owe them,"

George sat up and looked at her funny. "Wrong again. Friends don't keep track of who owes who. It's a two-way street."

"Well, that's stupid." Erin sniffed, also sitting up and crossing her eyes.

"I guess you do belong in Slytherin,"

Erin stood up, placing her hands on her hips. "And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

He also stood and shrugged, and keeping a calm tone while her's rose in anxiety, "Well, sometimes you seem," he paused, watching her wand warily, "like you don't really belong there. You laugh and grin and you don't think I'm bloodtraitor scum beneath your feet,"

"Oh, I _know_ your scum beneath my feet," she muttered.

"But somehow you're just different than all of them. I don't know how to put it-"

"Well, if it isn't Hogwarts' favorite inter-house couple. Both get ditched by your dates then?" Came the nasally voice of Nicole White. "Wait 'til everyone gets a load of this," she waggled her obnoxiously large camera in their faces.

Erin glared at her, raising her wand threateningly. "No one has cared about what you've got to say since second year, White, so I suggest you get the hell out of my way before I hex you to hell,"

"And back?" George muttered in her ear.

"I wouldn't want her back," Erin snarled, and he laughed. Nicole White stepped aside, mockingly waving her arms and a gesture to move past her. Erin strode past, George following.

Once they made it about ten paces, she stopped, and he almost ran into her. She spun around and aimed a well placed trip jinx at White, who fell into a rose bush, causing her and a well-hidden couple to squeal. All three of them emerged red-faced and Erin and George ran away, snickering and laughing respectively.

"Now what?" George asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Erin noticed his dark red robes that clashed horribly with his hair.

"I still don't see how I don't belong in Slytherin," She crossed her arms and took a step back from him.

"Well, you don't even want your sister there! What kind of Slytherin is that!"

Erin frowned. "Of course I wanted my sister, she's just too bookish,"

"I saw the look on your face. You were completely relieved,"

Erin sat down on a bench nearby. She placed her head in her hands, as he joined her. "Excuse me for not wanting my sister to have to put up with them,"

"See?"

"They're all rotten people," she paused, then added in afterthought, "And so am I, so I still belong there,"

"I don't think you're a rotten person,"

"You're a Weasley, it doesn't matter what you think," She snapped.

He stood and glared at her, "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means you're a stupid, red-headed git who can't even afford proper school books, and-"

But he was gone. Erin's lip quivered, "Just look at what you do, you stupid, pathetic, rotten, excuse for a person." She returned to the Great Hall, and after making sure Dimitri was engaged with some French girl, she trudged upstairs.

As she lay in her bed, she realized she could not look anywhere without seeing the emerald green of her house. She'd always been proud of her house; it was ambitious, cunning, intelligent- but now, she just felt like scum. Her house was blind, it could not appreciate friends or family properly. It was cruel and unforgiving. And no one trusted each other.

She let out a sigh, and turned to see green sticking out of her trunk. She kicked it open, and saw her Ireland Hoodie, forgotten since she got back to school. "Oh Merlin," she whispered. "I'm going to go and apologize, aren't I?"

Erin rolled her eyes at herself, and hurried out if the Slytherin common room.

Her thoughts carried her all the way to Gryffindor tower, a location she had known since first year, when the twins kidnapped her to test some if their pranks. When she arrived at the portrait of the lady in the pink dress, however, she stopped dead in her tracks, and whispered to herself, "What am I doing?"

**Erin, you idiot. This is your chance! He finally stormed away from you! Just let it go and Weasley is out of your hair forever!**

_But what I said was really horrible... And I didn't even mean it!_

**And? So you lied. You lie to everyone, remember? You lied to about six people this morning, and also to White. Remember? You like what she says about you. You like that people want to know about you. And, I think you like-**

"What are you doing here?" Erin spun around to face a grumpy looking Ron Weasley.

_I'm here to apologize to_- **Wrong.**

"Sleep walking," she said, and mentally slapped a hand to her face. **Worst. Lie. Ever.** _I've officially stooped to Hufflepuff level._

He shrugged and said, "Get out of here," and she sauntered past him, not stopping until she passed a mirror on the fourth floor.

"Oh, hell," she muttered taking in her appearance. Her eyes were wide and frantic, and her hair, curly only hours before, was dead looking, and only a few ringlets lingered. Her robes were disheveled, and her nose was red. "Maybe sleep-walking was believable," she whispered.

"I'd believe it," George Weasley said, moving to stand behind her. Neither of them moved, but they continued to stand, with George a few feet behind her, to look in the mirror.

"I-" Erin started, but she was cut off by him.

"Why can't you just have normal conversations with people?"

"Me? I'll bet you a million galleons _you've_ never had a normal conversation," She thought about crossing her arms, but did not.

George took a step closer to her. "Everything is like a bomb to you, at least everything I say,"

Erin huffed. "Well, you _notice_ stuff you're not supposed to!" The sentence was out of her mouth before she realized what she said, and she glared at herself in the mirror.

George took a step closer to her. "Like what?" She swallowed, and set her mouth firmly together. She would not speak. She _could_ not speak. "Come on, you owe me some explanation now," Erin looked down, away from his pleading eyes in the mirror. Neither of them made a sound for a moment. Finally, George said, "You let me notice. Like now, no one's ever seen this before,"

She spun around, opening her mouth, and found him right in front of her, frighteningly close. Unwillingly, she took a step back, letting her body rest on the mirror. "You looked nice by the way, I like your hair," He picked up one of the last ringlets and let it fall from his hand.

"I like yours too," she said, looking at the ginger mop that sat on his head. It was out before she could stop it, and he took a step closer. His body brushed up against hers, and she tensed, looking up at him. She started wringing her hands in earnest.

"It was really horrible what you said,"

_If he wanted to, he could easily_- **shut it! **"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking down and away.

He took a step back. Erin ignored the cold that swept over as she looked up to see him grinning. "Great, see you tomorrow," and he headed back down the corridor. She opened her mouth to say something, _anything_, but then he was gone.

As she trudged (sauntered, when passing a couple) back to her dormitory, she kept arguing with herself.

**I can't believe you.**

_Well, he deserved an apology! I insulted him, his family-_

**Who cares? He's Weasley. Remember him? The one who distracts you at practice, who bothers you for homework assignments, who kidnapped you-**

_Well, we were first years then._

**Merlin, what have you gotten yourself into? Admit it, you fancy-**

"Hey," Naomi said, rescuing Erin from her conflicting thoughts. She simply smirked at her. They had a brief exchange, and Erin settled down in her bed.

**You fancy George Weasley, you stupid girl.**

_Wrong_.

**Liar.**

* * *

Oh my goodness I love you all so much for reading this and I usually hate when author's notes are long but I just love you all so much and it makes my day when someone follows or I get even one more hit or view and reviews ugh they just kill me (in the words of Holden)! I am deeply sorry for that run-on. Please be aware that the common application is up, and so most of my time and energy is focused on that (and my calculus packet). Also I want you to know how agonizing that last word was. Plus: just so you know Erin had lots of italics in her speech because it kept rising in anxiety in desperation. In case you didn't get that uptake ;) Please R&R!


	9. Chapter VIII

Erin raced through the hallways of Hogwarts, trying to calm the frantic thoughts that clouded her vision. She had been coming back from a particularly muddy Quidditch practice when it happened:

She had been walking to the Slytherin common room after practice, not particularly caring whether or not she was caught by Filch. It was a new year, and she knew her father wouldn't mind one for tracking mud if she explained. She could tell him she got one for no reason, or somehow conveniently forget to mention it.

Well, she was caught by Filch, and he dragged Erin to his beaten down office despite the late hour. When she arrived, she was not surprised to find the Weasley twins, fiddling around with the papers on his desk.

"Watch it," he snarled at them, and they both put their hands behind their backs and whistled. Filch brushed past them to retrieve a detention slip.

"What happened to no more detentions?" One of the twin said to Erin, remarkably close to her ear.

"New year," Erin commented, quieter than him. Filch finished filling out the paper, and handed it to Erin.

"Thank you," She said mockingly polite, smirking. She decided not to test her luck and curtsy. Filch stared at her and sneered.

"Next time you track mud through my hallways you'll get worse! I just sent in a new punishment request form to Dumbledore,"

Erin stared at him unblinkingly. "I can hardly wait," She said dryly, and a twin snorted a laugh. She raised an eyebrow, then, brought both of the corners of her mouth up, breaking into a small smile, but nonetheless a smile.

She exited and slammed the door shut, and leaned against it, sinking to the ground and placed her head on her knees. She smiled.

She then realized what had happened, forced a corner of her mouth down, and jumped up to run away.

And so was her predicament.

She had only ever half-grinned before to get what she wanted or needed: her sister's forgiveness, a good grade, a sweatshirt-

But she had smiled. For the hell of it. Erin Fisher doesn't smile. Erin Fisher smirks. Erin Fisher sneers. Erin Fisher frowns. Erin Fisher snarls. Erin Fisher does not bloody smile.

But the Weasley twins made her smile. In particular, whichever one of them snorted. She was going to kill something. She stopped to kick a suit of armor, and regretted it as soon as her foot made contact. She kept running. Now, she was tired, angry, and her foot bloody hurt.

She would never admit it, but it frightened her. Why else would she try to run from her own mouth? Erin stopped suddenly, and sank to the ground, panting. She reached up to massage the corners of her mouth. Then, Erin grabbed the bottom lip and stretched it, rotating the lip around. Then she moved onto the top lip. Finally, she simply covered it with her hands. She wanted her mouth to just disappear. Then, she wouldn't have to deal with her expressions. It would only interfere with all her life.

What else could her mouth be capable of? A pout? A kissy face? She would never let that happen.

She _could_ never let that happen.

Erin shuddered against the wall. It was cold. Unwillingly, her mind wandered to the night she was trapped between the Weasley twins in October. She tried guessing which twin had laughed at her comment.

It wasn't hard.

* * *

It was dinnertime one Friday night, and George stared across the Great Hall to Erin, who sat with Naomi Young. She poured pepper on her potatoes, chatting with Naomi. George was waiting for her to smile. Not to smirk, like always, but to really smile, like she did in Filch's office.

It was a wonderful smile. When both corners of her mouth turned upwards, it was like she couldn't be stopped. Like she was happy, and not lying.

But he waited in vain. As the evening owls swooped in, Fred took the usual Profit, and George continued to stare. A large tawny owl landed in front of her. She narrowed her eyes, but the smirk remained. She skimmed the letter, calmly folded it and ripped it, then she placed it under her plate. Erin continued to talk with Naomi, smirk firmly in place, but her eyes flashed. Naomi looked concerned and Erin waved her hand. They returned to eating.

George could not figure it out. She was clearly lying about something. But what was it? When Fred headed upstairs with Angelina, George stayed put. When Alicia and Katie invited him to go to the kitchens for a dessert, he denied their request, and the rest of his friends trickled upstairs, one by one. Finally, nearly everyone in the hall was gone, and the Slytherin table was entirely empty.

George strode over to Erin's spot at the end of the table. He looked under her plate and found the letter.

_Now, that's not right, is it? _A voice interrupted him.

"But if I can help, then it's right, right?" George said out loud. He took the letter pieces and stuffed them in his robe. Then he went upstairs to join his friends before they got too suspicious.

Angelina and Alicia chatted about Hogsmeade animatedly, and Lee was raving about the Second task with Fred. They were wondering what the egg's message could have meant. Fred believed that they had to beat a banshee and Lee was adamant about listening to it backwards.

"How do you listen to screaming backwards?" Fred rolled his eyes.

"It's a simple charm, it could mean something completely different! Look I'll show you… ."

Everyone in the common room was taking advantage of a homework free night, but George could not focus on his friends' conversations. The letter seemed to be burning a hole in his pocket. Finally, George could not stand it any longer. "I'm going to turn in for the night," He sighed. His four friends nodded, Fred taking a second longer, and George went up to the dormitories.

The moment he closed his door he tore the letter out of the pocket and placed the pieces together. Quite a few were missing, but he was able to read a few words such as "France", "Hogwarts" and "You-know-who".

And she kept on smirking. He ran a hand through his hair, and paced around the room. In frustration, he punched his bedpost, and groaned in pain. _Ok, George. That was stupid._

He sighed, and rubbing his hand, decided to take a stroll. Perhaps he'd go to Madam Pomfrey for some pain reliever. He placed his throbbing hand in the other and headed downstairs.

His friends had started a game of exploding snap, and did not see him sneak through the portrait hole.

George started down for the Hospital Wing to get rid of the throbbing in his hand, when he heard a small hiccup. He paused, then cautiously approached the broom closet. He listened first, then opened it. Sitting on an overturned bucket with her head on her hands was none other than Erin Fisher.

She looked astonished as she jumped in the air. "George! Err, Weasley!" She backed up and stepped in a bucket full of suds, then tumbled backwards, bringing a few brooms down with her.

"Woah," George said, grabbing her hand and helping her up.

"What are you doing here," she mumbled, tearing her hand out of his grip once she was stable.

"Just..." George trailed off, taking in her appearance. There was no sign of a tear, but her face was red, and her robes disheveled; her tie hung loosely around her neck and her shirt was un-tucked and unbuttoned towards the top. Then there was her soaking foot. "Nothing. I'm not doing anything."

"Well it's past curfew,"

"And?" George rolled his eyes.

Erin struggled to come up with something to say. "And you should...you should not be..." She sighed. "Never you mind,"

"What were you doing?"

She ignored his question and brushed past him. She began to walk towards the door, when George called after her, "What even happened?"

She froze, and slowly, she turned around, an unreadable expression on her face. "I don't want to talk about it," she murmured, and plopped back down on her overturned bucket.

George frowned and crossed his arms. "And? When has anyone ever actually cared about what you want?"

Her lip quivered, and George regretted saying anything at once. He uncrossed his arms and stared at Erin, who seemed to be frozen. Suddenly she jumped up and shot pass him, slamming the door and leaving him in the closet. He pressed lightly against the door, and found that she was sitting against it.

"Erin," he said quietly, "Erin, I'm sorry, that was out of line," he pushed against the door and found, to his surprise, she had moved a few feet from the door. George sat down cautiously next to her.

"No, you didn't do anything," she said after some time. "They're going into hiding. My dad's mark keeps burning. They're going to go to France, but they're ditching Abigail and I."

"I thought your parents didn't care about muggles?"

"They don't really, but Dad joined Voldemort last time to save his skin. And now, obviously, they're dumping us to save their skins again,"

"What are you going to tell her?"

"That they're dead,"

"Oh," On an impulse, he grasped her hand, pulling her up. "Come on, time to get up,"

"And go where?"

"Dunno. Kitchens? Hogsmeade?"

Erin smirked at him. "I don't even want to know how many nights you spend roaming around,"

"So Hogsmeade?"

"I've got school tomorrow," she said, trailing off. "And we're both wearing school robes. We'd get caught."

Geroge rolled his eyes, stuffing his hands in his pockets and muttering, "So?"

"So I don't like wasting my life in detention,"

George sighed. "Fine," and Erin rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to bed," she said. After a few paces, however, she turned. "Um, thanks. That was...nice, nice to get off my chest,"

As he lay in bed, George thought a lot about what it would mean to lose his mother and father.

It would mean everything. No more family Christmas, or Easter. Charlie or Bill or Percy would have to be their legal guardian, and of course, Fred and George would take care of Ron and Ginny at Hogwarts. But it would mean no more pies or breakfast during summer. No more howlers or letters or sloppy kisses goodbye from his mum. His dad could not rave about muggles or "elektricitie" anymore.

And what about Ginny, or Ron, or Bill or Charlie or Percy? What if one of them left, or died?

What if— No. George cut himself off firmly. That would not happen. Slowly, he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Erin wove her way through the crowd of people wandering around in the entrance hall, searching for her sister. She had to tell her- well, about their parents. And Erin figured she wouldn't take it well.

When she found her (talking with that Gryffindor boy again, Calvin), she took her hand saying she had to explain something to her. Abigail nodded and followed, smiling giddily and looking uncharacteristically thoughtless. She waved to the boy who turned to find some other friends.

Erin led her sister to an empty corridor, where they could both sit of the window sill together. "Ok, Abigail. How's school? You're not failing anything, are you?"

Abigail shook her head furiously. "I'm top of my class. Is that why you wanted to talk to me? School? I swear I do my homework and-"

"No, no, look: sometimes bad things happen, and you can't do anything about it, right?"

"Right, like the clover incident-"

"You told me you'd try to forget about it-"

"I am trying! And you told me you'd try to smile more," Abigail crossed her arms defensively, glaring at her sister.

Erin uncrossed her sister's arms for her and took her hands in her own. "I did try." She took a deep breath. "But I'm not talking about that right now, I'm trying to tell you-"

"You're not pregnant, are you?"

"Good Merlin, Abigail, Mum and Dad are bloody dead!"

Abigail froze. Then she broke into a wide smile. "Ha! That's funny! But don't do it again. So who's the dad then? That one red-head-"

"Abigail," Erin said softly. "I'm not kidding. I got an official letter from the ministry last night. They were killed, they don't know how."

"Show me,"

"I ripped it up," Erin confessed, looking at her sister, thankful there were no tears yet. "I was angry, because they didn't offer an explanation. Abigail, I'm sorry."

"Well, bad things happen, and you can't do anything about it, right?"

"Wrong." Erin said. "I'm your new legal guardian, and you don't have to worry, they had wills and left us the house to live in. The thing is, well..." She trailed off. "Look, what I'm trying to say is that we've always been closer to each other than Mum or Dad, right? And we loved them, and they loved us, so it's ok. It's like a friend moving away, and I'm your guardian now- or I will be on July 2 when I turn seventeen."

Abigail nodded, her tearless face in a mournful expression. "I'm going to go find Cal, we were going to study during our free period after lunch."

Erin frowned, then when her sister looked up at her, she smiled. Abigail broke into an enormous grin, her eyes lighting up, and she threw her arms around Erin. "Thank you," she whispered, and then hurried off to find her friend.

Erin sighed, returning her mouth to a frown. She felt proud, but a little guilty at the same time. However, they were both overpowered by a strong sense of anger at her parents.

As she told Abigail, they'd never been a close family, however, leaving their children was completely irresponsible and cruel. Erin decided to take her own advice, to not be too upset by it, and think of it as a friend moving away.

* * *

Hello! I'm really grateful for all readers, reviewers, followers, and favoriters! Unfortunately, I cannot think of anyway to say thank you other than posting as much as possible! I'm not happy with this chapter, but the whole smiling thing is part of the plot, and the best way to not smile is to have your parents leave. Originally they were dead, but then I figured, they're pureblood Slytherins, they're going to try and save themselves no matter what. I really hope it's not a Mary-Sue thing, but I figure if she doesn't use it as a tragic backstory, it's fine, right? RIGHT? I promise to have a new and better chapter in a few days. Probably Saturday, the tenth.

Lots of love, sorry for the long A/N!


	10. Chapter IX

The school was in a frenzy as the Quidditch final drew nearer and nearer. It was to be Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, and everyone had picked a side; the Hufflepuffs were all siding with Gryffindor (though they claimed they just wanted a fair game) while many of the Ravenclaws, still bitter about their loss to Gryffindor earlier in the season, sided with Slytherin.

Many of the players on Erin's team had resorted to trying to hex the opposing players like the previous year, namely Harry Potter. Flint kept trying to attack Angelina Johnson, and he was actually worried about Erin.

"I can take care of myself, Flint, now get your ruddy arse out of my way," Erin snarled at him on her way to Charms class. He was walking in front of her, wand out and glare set.

He turned to sneer at her and said, "Fine, but if you're not playing you'll be doing laps for a year,"

Somehow, this had gotten through to him, Erin supposed, because he actually stayed away from her. It was odd though, because the next day, people were actually trying to hex her; Naomi was hit with a tripping jinx and fell down the stairs. She would have sworn it came from where Warrington stood with Flint...

Finally, it was the morning of the game. Erin awoke with a start at 6:15, and seeing her other roommates asleep, crept silently to the bathroom to change. She quickly brushed her hair into a ponytail and grabbed her broomstick, heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

There were few Slytherins up, but Erin noticed that Flint was awake and talking to Professor Snape at the head table, along with two men in dark blue. She ignored them and settled down in the middle of the table, agame day tradition.

As the team filed in around her, she helped herself to eggs and toast, and continued to watch Flint and the two men. One of them looked extremely annoyed, while the other just looked bored, like Professor Snape.

Everyone looked up as the Gryffindor team filed into the Great Hall. Half cheered while the others jeered and booed at them. Erin rolled her eyes, and looked up to see the annoyed man looking at her. He gave her a toothy grin, and Erin looked back at him. She smirked slightly.

The two teams filed out of the hall, Flint finally joining them. "Who was that?" Malfoy asked, but Flint shrugged it off. Erin ignored this exchange, determined to focus on her game.

However, as the Slytherin team tried to head out of the hall ahead of the Gryffindors, Erin found herself right next to the Weasley twins. One of them nudged her shoulder and gave her a grin. "We're going to kick your arses," he said.

Erin felt her temper flare up, and she jabbed him in the chest, forcing him backwards and throwing out a few curses about the "good-for-nothing" Gryffindor team. The twins laughed and Dimitri grabbed Erin around the waist as she lunged forward at them. "Save it for the pitch," he said, and she nodded. She couldn't help but the glance up at the heads table. The two men were looking right at her. The one had on that toothy grin, while the other nodded thoughtfully.

After what seemed like hours in the locker room, where they could hear the thunderous pounding of footsteps overhead, they headed out into the field. The whistle blew, and they were off.

Erin took the Quaffle immediately, and charged the goalposts. She dropped it to Dimitri, who was struck with a bludger, and he dropped the Quaffle. Alicia Spinnet took it, and scored.

Flint took the Quaffle, and though Erin and Dimitri circled him, he never passed the Quaffle. "Oi!" Dimitri shouted.

"Flint seems to think he can score himself," came Lee Jordan's voice. "And he does not! Bell takes it back and passes to Johnson SCORE! Twenty to Gryffindor, zero to Slytherin!"

The cheers echoing throughout the stadium were relentless and loud. Flint continued to avoid passing at all costs, and very rarely did Erin get the Quaffle. Thirty minutes into the game, the snitch was nowhere to be seen, and Slytherin was down by fifty. Finally, Flint called a timeout, and as the team huddled by the goalposts, he turned to yell at Malfoy.

"Oi! Catch that bloody-"

"Listen here, Flint," Erin said, stepping forward to poke him in the chest. "You need to pass me the damn Quaffle for once! This is a bloody _team_ sport!"

"The Gryffindors must be feeling confident, as there seems to be some kind of mutiny in the Slytherin team. Chaser Erin Fisher is shouting at Captain Marcus Flint. Go on, Fisher! Tell him what a great, fat, oaf-"

"If you cost us the game, whoever you're trying to impress will _not_ be happy-"

"Oi! Angelina! Want to go to Hogsmeade next-"

"So if you don't hand me that Quaffle I swear to Merlin I will force a bludger down your throat!" Erin's shouting overpowered Lee Jordan's commentary to the Slytherin team, and they all shrank back a little at the volume. She finished her threat, and flew back up into the air. Malfoy was the first to follow. "If you can't catch it, at least just give us enough time to catch up in points first," she said to him, and he nodded. Erin signaled to Madam Hooch that they were ready.

"And, now that Fisher is done threatening Flint, we're off again folks! Fisher snatches the Quaffle from Bell, passes to Dimitri Deast, to Flint, Fisher, Deast, Fisher, who scores," he said glumly. "Well, that's fine for them. Maybe whatever New Captain Fisher said got through to him, the stupid-"

Erin continued to pass to both Flint and Dimitri, however, they were not as fast as her. Erin had always preferred passing quickly to maneuvering, however, her two fellow chasers were the opposite. So, she resorted to the same thing.

She continued to fly about the pitch scoring six goals for Slytherin, doubling Dimitri's three and tripling Flint's two. Once, she very nearly got hit with a bludger, and turned to glare at the Weasley twins. They grinned and waved, sending another bludger in her direction. She dropped the Quaffle in order to avoid being hit in the skull. Katie Bell caught it, and Erin, grinding her teeth, dove after her.

Finally, after a grueling two hour game, the snitch was spotted. The score was 140 : 110 to Gryffindor. Whoever caught the snitch would win.

The game seemed to freeze in midair, and Erin halfheartedly threw the Quaffle through the unguarded hoop as Harry Potter closed his fingers around the snitch.

There was a collective sigh and uproarious cheering from the two ends of the stadium. Gryffindors poured out onto the field, lifting up their team. Crying and laughing, they hoisted the gleaming cup into the sky.

Erin landed, and sluggishly walked to the locker rooms. By the time she arrived, most of the team had gone, and the cheers now echoed from the castle. She stopped when she heard a man's voice, "Look. I'm sorry kid, but that's just not what we're looking for right now,"

"Just watch another game, please!" Begged a voice Erin knew: Flint.

"Sorry, but we've seen three now. Even if that was just a bad game, we look a lot at attitude. We're not really about that," came a different voice.

There was the sound of footsteps storming away, and Erin scurried back a few feet. The two men came around the corner, and she pretended to have just arrived in the hallway.

"Hey! There she is!" One man said to another. "Listen, sweet, how old are you?"

"Sixteen, seventeen in July," she answered, standing up straight and jutting her chin out.

"Excellent. Listen, keeping playing like that, and we'll come calling next year. And keep that temper of yours," the other man added in afterthought. "It's perfect: young, female, talented, a little fiery-"

"Who are you?" Erin asked, trying not to sound rude.

"We represent the English National Quidditch Team. Depending on the spots that open, we could use you on a reserve team somewhere,"

Erin felt faint. "I, erm, what?"

"We want you to keep playing, and tryout next year,"

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she broke into a wide grin. "Thank you sir,"

"You should probably work on your upper-arm strength though," he frowned, but it passed as he continued. "We usually only look at Captains, but you've pretty much got that covered, don't you?" He said, grinning, and she recognized him as the annoyed looking man from earlier. "Like I said, keep playing, we'll find you," he winked at her, and the two men walked past, presumably to find a floo.

Erin walked into the locker room in a daze to find it empty.

_Those two men represented England!_

She punched a fist in the air and couldn't help but skip to her locker. She wouldn't stop smiling all night.

* * *

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore announced to the student body, there was a rush of whispers, and Erin suddenly felt claustrophobic, as though the black drapes in Cedric's honor were choking her.

Dumbledore continued to talk about how excellent Cedric was. Many people were crying, and nearly everyone looked sad- except for the Slytherins.

Most of the upperclassmen boys were jittery and speaking in excited whispers. A fair few of the girls looked admiring at them, as did the younger students. Erin was frightened; like Naomi looked. She nudged her, and Naomi composed herself, leaving the fear and sadness for her eyes.

The two girls hid out in the library until most students were asleep. Only then did they head back to the Slytherin dormitory and pack their things.

On the train, they had a compartment to themselves, and were quiet, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Erin announced, "I'm going to find the loo," Naomi nodded, and Erin left.

Only a few feet down the corridor, she was blocked by Flint, who had his head stuck in a compartment. "We'll get to him eventually, just one more year!" He laughed, and closed to door, turning to face Erin.

"You Know Who is foul, Flint," she said quietly, and made to brush past him.

"Just because you're too cowardly to join him," Flint said.

Erin turned slowly to face him, her eyes narrowing. "I am ," she said, taking a step towards him with every word, "_not_ a coward." Her wand was on his throat, and she kept advancing so his back was against the wall. "I'm braver than you will ever be, having Warrington try and hex me. _Idiot_. Did you think I wouldn't figure out you had scouts? Think I wouldn't _know_ you didn't want _me_ to look better than _you_?" she poked his throat for each emphasis, "So, don't you ever say a _word_ against me again," she finished, and turned to saunter away.

In a second, a jet of yellow shot past her head from behind her, as did a purple one from in front of her. She looked up to see Naomi pocketing her wand, a smug look on her face, and turned to see Fint on the ground, sprouting tentacles from his nose.

"Nice shot," Erin said, impressed. "Thanks,"

"Sure, what are friends for?" She said, and headed into the compartment.

Erin paused, then followed. "Oh,"

* * *

"What are your summer rates?"

"3 Galleons a week for one room with a bed and a bathroom," The lady answered, not looking up from her magazine.

"I'll take one of those, until September ," Erin answered.

The woman raised an eyebrow, but said, "Ok, you pay here each Sunday for the former week. Here's a key,"

Erin took it, and grabbed her trunk with the other hand, and led Abigail up the stairs of the Inn. The room was alright, small, but it would do. "You take the bed," Erin said, kicking open her trunk and taking out some sheets she'd stolen from Hogwarts. She emptied the rest of the contents into a dresser, and attempted to transfigure the trunk to a mattress. It turned out hard, but it would do.

"Right," Erin said, her hands on her hips. "I'm going job hunting. You can come look in the shops, but you'd have to stay with me. Or, you can stay here and unpack,"

"I'll come," Abigail said. "I'll get you sympathy points,"

Erin smirked and said, "That's my girl,"

Three days later, Erin dressed herself in Madam Malkin's robes and headed to her new job. She essentially just wandered around, fixing the place when people moved the clothes around. It was mindless and paid four galleons a week, one more than she needed. She came at seven each morning, and left at five. She would bring home dinner for Abigail, and then fly after dark in a muggle park.

There, she created a routine: (attempted) pull-ups on the monkey bars, jogging for a bit, and scoring from different ranges and positions through the trees. Once, a few muggle boys saw her and ran away, screaming about a ghost. She took a few extra days off after that, but came back.

Eventually, Abigail grew bored of their tiny room, and Erin begrudgingly let her roam during the day. "You can't leave until nine, when all the shops open, understand?"

"Yes,"

"And you'll be back here at five when I'm bringing home dinner?"

"Yes,"

"And if you step one toe in Knockturn Alley, I will hunt you down, and kill you. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Abigail sighed. Erin could tell she was trying not to roll her eyes.

"If you don't come back one night I'm going to sh-"

"Erin," Abigail said, "I'm not stupid. I'll keep to the streets and have my wand on me at all times. It's fine,"

Erin bit her lip, but nodded, after making her promise to visit Madam Malkin's at least once a day.

The summer continued in this way. In August, there were more students milling around, and Madam Malkin kept Erin until the store closed, but raised her pay to seven galleons.

She tried to hide in the back when there was someone she knew. She pretended to use the loo when Flint came through the door, laughing with his cronies. Thankfully, she didn't see anyone else, and Madam Malkin, if she noticed her ten minute break, said nothing.

One day, Madam Malkin gave her the day off after lunch. "There's no one here," she had said glumly, "and you can only fold robes so many times over," Erin smirked, and with a thank you, she left.

After ducking into Quality Quidditch Supplies, she could not stop thinking about what lay ahead of her after Hogwarts.

Erin wanted to play Quidditch, she really did, and she had wanted to play for Ireland since she was young. However, she felt distant from the team now. She had been born in England, despite her parents' Irish descent. She had been so excited for the two men from England. Now, that was a dream. Did she really want to play for Ireland? She fingered a pair of chasers gloves and decided, _No, I just wanted to be good enough to. Ireland has been a fantastic team. I want to be that talented. And I want them to want me, so I could say no._

With a nervous sort of smirk, she left the store, and settled on trying to find Abigail. It wasn't hard, and she soon saw her sitting with that Cal boy at Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlor. She watched from afar as they laughed and talked.

A boy came up to talk to Abigail, and Erin rolled her eyes as Cal turned stony. He soon left, and Abigail, oblivious as ever, said nothing about it. They stood to leave, and shaking her head, Erin resisted following them to Flourish and Botts.

With a sigh, she returned to the apartment and only half-listened to Abigail's ramblings that night.

Eventually, after it seemed the monotony of the summer would finally make her crack, it was the first of September, and they needed to go back to school.

* * *

Ok, thank you so much to my reviewers, you have restored my faith in my readers, particularly MySuperAwesomePenname. So, thank you very very much. I finished physically writing the story this morning, so all I have left is reviewing and expanding. Updates will be more frequent!

Lots of Love,


	11. Chapter X

George pretended to crack his back as he turned in his seat to glance at Erin, who sat directly behind him, just like last year in D.A.D.A. There was a sneer on her face as she looked at the woman in pink at the front of the room. Her upper lip was raised on the right, revealing bared teeth, and her nose was crunched up. She squinted her eyes at the board, which read: **No Wands Necessary.**

With every emphasis in her speech about how important N.E.W.T.s were, Erin gave a derisive "Teh," under her breath, and many of the Gryffindors would start talking.

"Hands will be raised in my class, please," She said in a falsely high voice.

"The first time I use a spell will be when I'm taking the exam? What if I can't do it on the first try?" Someone shouted from the back of the room.

"Hand!"

Fred thrust his hand in the air, and she nodded to him. "Why?"At this, she launched into an explanation about how wands were dangerous, and if not used properly-

"If we can't practice, it's not going to come out properly, so of course it'll be dangerous, you stupid cow," The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Naomi let out a laugh, but quickly covered it with a coughing fit as Umbridge approached them.

"Hands will be used in my classroom, Miss...?"

"Fisher," she said, straightening up once she realized she had sunk into the back of her chair.

"If you keep giving our professors that attitude of yours, I'll not let you on the team this year," came the laughing voice of Flint from the back.

Erin turned to glare at him, whacking Umbridge with her ponytail as she turned. "Stuff it, Flint, good luck getting a single goal without me there," at this, he rolled his eyes. He was about to retort when Umbridge cut him off.

"Miss Fisher! I cannot tolerate this sort of attitude! Now, sit back in your chair and-"

She was cut off by the sound of students in the corridors, signaling the end of class. Erin flew out of her chair, crashing past Umbridge and out the door. She hurried around a corner before the rest of the class could catch up and question her, and let out a sigh of relief. That woman was suffocating, maybe she would just try and drop the class...

_No, that class is important now. You can just practice on your own in the library_. Erin nodded to herself. She took a breath and rejoined the crowded hallways of Hogwarts, hoping that her class would forget her outbursts.

They did not, and although no one confronted her, she received several wary looks as she entered the classroom that Thursday. Throughout the double period, she could feel their eyes burn into the back of her skull, and wished she sat in the back of the room. Instead of turning around to glare at them, however, she settled for watching George's back tense up whenever Umbridge would talk, and twirled her hair absentmindedly,

Little buts of her bun would fall out, and she constantly kept her fingers tangled in them, if only to avoid reaching for her wand. _He's sort of skinny, isn't he? I mean, not super skinny, bigger than me, but lanky for a guy. Not burly like all the Slytherin guys..._

"Well of course he's back!" Fred's voice wrenched her from her thoughts, and she quickly caught onto the conversation.

"Yeah," George chimed in. "Dumbledore said-"

"Dumbledore has chosen to believe a very confused little boy!" Umbridge said, her sweet, sugary voice growing frantic.

Erin but her tongue as someone argued back. Good Merlin, she could not say anything. She would not say anything-

"Neither Voldemort nor his followers are back! There is no proof! No one is hurt, dead, or missing that cannot be traced back to Sirius Black!"

In that instant, a million different things happened to Erin: she swallowed the bitter vomit before it could burst through her mouth; snapped her quill in half; picked up her wand, holding it in shaking fingers; reached for a good curse in mind that would display what happened to her parents; and ignored Naomi's worried looks and how George turned around to look at her. In the next second, she dropped everything as Lee Jordan stood and shouted at Umbridge.

"You're that bloody ignorant? Merlin, I thought some of the Ravenclaws were bad! People's parents are dying! Their siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles are missing! Get a bloody grip and admit you're a foul, loathsome-"

"Detention!" Umbridge squeaked, waving her wand to force Lee back in his chair. "See me after class, Jordan! Everyone read chapter two, and if there is any talking, you will be joining him!"

She felt a surge of gratitude for Lee Jordan, but it passed as quick as it came. Erin rested her head on her hand and stared at the pages, blinking dully. The sudden defense for her parents had left her flustered and unsure. When the bell rang, she rushed out of the classroom, avoiding any stares, and sat in the library for the next free period.

The silence, interrupted only by pages turning and the whispers of others was relaxing to her. Here, she could think clearly. She did feel as though they were friends that moved away. So, she decided, the real reason I'm angry is because people are blind. They won't see what's happening. They won't see that my family isn't the only one torn apart by You-Know-Who. Slowly, her thoughts drifted away from the outside world, and she daydreamed about Quidditch, forgetting about her parents, Abigail, Fred, George, Lee Jordan, and even Umbridge.

* * *

The Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match was set to happen the next Saturday, and Flint was going insane (according to Erin). The team had practice before and after school, and there were constant shouting matches on the pitch between the new Gryffindor captain, Angelina Johnson, and Flint.

One day, Erin had enough of it. She flew down, motioning for the Slytherin team to follow her. They had been practicing, but Johnson claimed to have the pitch booked. Flint was now arguing with her, and Erin landed behind him with the rest of the team.

"Flint," she said, roughly shoving his shoulder so he faced her, "This is getting us nowhere. You arguing with Johnson doesn't give anyone time to practice. "And hell, Flint," she added in undertone, glancing around him at the Gryfinndors, "We really need it." Her voice rose as she addressed everyone. "We get mornings on Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, and then you guys get mornings the other days. Then switch in the afternoon,"

"Well, maybe I want Friday morning!" Angelina said, stepping forward to face Erin.

"Look, Johnson," Erin said cooly. "Do you want me to let you two argue all day? I came up with the solution, we get Friday morning. We're done practicing now, it's no longer our time. Come on guys," she slung her broom over her shoulder and the team followed her out obediently, leaving Flint red-faced and mouth hung open.

"I- what- I'm captain! Fisher!" He spluttered, and ran off after them as the Gryffindor team took the pitch.

* * *

Erin kept either a smirk or sneer on her face the entire game. Neither Flint nor Dimitri had scored a single goal, and they seemed more focused on watching Malfoy. Flint had already decided that was their only hope. So, Erin was stuck as a one-man Quidditch team as she prayed Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't hit her with a bludger. They too, however, seemed focused on Malfoy, and she was forced to swerve out of the way of the Weasley's bludgers.

The Gryffindor chasers noticed this predicament, and though she saw some form of pity in Katie Bell's eyes, they showed no mercy. She was outnumbered; she was not able to score more than five goals, and even those were just luck (although Erin would insist they were due to her skill). When Malfoy grabbed hold of Harry Potter's broomstick, only the cursing of nearly everyone in the stand brought her focus from the quaffle.

Eventually, Harry Potter caught the snitch, and Erin glumly tossed the quaffle to Angelina Johnson. "Thanks," Angelina muttered, and soared over to Harry, who stood with the Weasley twins. Malfoy was jeering at him, and said something. In an instant, Harry and George were on top of him, and Erin was soaring downwards, trying to rescue her seeker.

She arrived, but did not want to put herself in the entanglement. Instead she joined in screaming at the three boys on the ground, and Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagall were on the scene, tearing them apart. The two were led away, and Erin pulled Malfoy up by the scruff of the neck. She dragged him over to the hallway that encased the locker room, slamming him up against the wall.

"What the hell did you do? If you get yourself kicked off the team-"

"I only said some stuff, Merlin, Erin,"

Erin squinted at him, and she threw him against the wall again. "Go on, Malfoy, tell me exactly what-"

"Just send him to the Hospital Wing, Fisher," came the voice of Flint. He stood at the edge of the hallway, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Erin dropped Malfoy, who scurried away, and advanced on Flint.

"YOU! YOU FOUL, LOATHSOME, EVIL, ROTTEN EXCUSE FOR A WIZARD!" She shouted, and lunged on him, grabbing his collar and throwing him against the wall. Flint, taken by surprise of the force, was like a rag doll. "YOU PUT EVERYTHING ON THAT WEASEL'S SHOULDERS! HE'S NOT THE ONLY ONE ON THE TEAM! YOU KNOW WHY THE GRYFFINDORS WIN? THEY DON'T LEAVE EVERYTHING TO WATCH POTTER, LETTING ONE CHASER DO ALL THE WORK!"

"Merlin, calm the hell down-"

"NO, I WILL _NOT_ CALM THE HELL DOWN! WE'RE NEVER GOING TO WIN A MATCH AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN CAPTAIN!"

"Ahem," came a voice, "Is this a bad time?" Erin turned, still shaking with rage from her outburst, to see the man with a toothy grin. It was this toothy grin he shot at her, and when she turned around Flint was gone. She advanced towards the man carefully, slowly, embarrassed. "Listen," he said. "I agree with you, and that's probably a whole lot of pent up anger, but-"

"I shouldn't shout at my bloody captain," Erin said bitterly looking at her shoes.

"But you should have waited for more people," he finished with a laugh. "That was hysterical, really! The look on that boy's face, ha!" And the man broke out into a fit of chuckles. Erin stared at him, head cocked to one side. "Here's my card. Be at England's head stadium on August first." He gave her a small white card with the company name on it. "When you come, show them this, and they'll give you a tryout time sometime that month. Keep playing and acting like you do, it's fantastic,"

Erin shot him a lopsided grin, crossing her arms and leaning to her right. "Thank you, sir,"

At this stance, his eyes welled up with tears, and his toothy grin grew, if possible, wider. "Really, I don't think you understand how perfect this is," he said excitedly, his eyes lighting up. "You're perfect for advertising and campaigning the company. They think we draft boring guys," he explained, "Come and tryout," he said with a wink.

Erin could do nothing but gape and grin at him. Finally, with another wink, he left, leaving Erin afraid to bend the card.

With a spring in her step, she went to the Slytherin common room, expecting to find the house moping around, or in bed. Instead, there was a party in full swing. Someone had gotten firewhiskey, and wizard rock blared throughout the room.

"What the hell's going on in here?" Erin shouted to be heard, and a fourth year turned to her.

"Hey, everyone, it's Fisher!" The crowd in the center of the room engulfed her, and she was thrown between Dimitri and Flint, across from Montague, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"What the devil? We lost, remember? Horribly, I might add."

Dimitri laughed and threw an arm around her shoulder. "Haven't you heard? The Weasley twins and Potter are banned!"

"Banned from what?"

"Quidditch, you dumb wench," Flint said, elbowing her. Erin scooted closer to Dimitri to avoid further contact.

"I- how can they just be, _banned_?"

"Umbridge!" Someone shouted. Erin felt like she was tumbling in a downwards spiral. Everything just got worse, and the card seemed to be burning a hole in her pocket. Rather than elated, she felt heavy, dragged down. She pretended to laugh and enjoy the party while frantically, she pondered what to do. Should she go down and say something? She had wanted to tell George about the card, but he wouldn't want to see it.

All she could think was, _what_?

* * *

One day, after a class with Umbridge, Erin followed George at a distance until he was alone. Embarrassed by the fact she could not have simply called out to him in public, she paused, and found herself wondering what she was doing. After seeing him trudge a few more feet however, she developed a sense of resolve, and called, "Weasley!"

He turned, brow furrowed, and she noticed his eyes lit up slightly, though his mouth remained encased in a frown. Erin hurried toward him, running slightly, and when she was near him, her nervousness vanished, and it was like she hadn't been the one calling for him. "Want to go do something? I'm bored of schoolwork, and you never _do_ schoolwork,"

He shrugged and she felt like she was punched in the gut. Quidditch, as it was to her, was like life to him. If he couldn't play, he wasn't living. She grinned and grabbed his hand, tugging him along. "Come on, it'll be fun!" A lovely feeling swept through her as she did this; it felt as though she'd taken off on a broomstick.

She managed to pull him all the way to the Quidditch Pitch, stopping at the edge of the field. "Wait here," she said, and sprinted to the Slytherin locker room to grab her brooms. She had a Cleansweep, and the Nimbus 2001 Malfoy had used to bribe his way onto the team her fourth year. She hadn't wanted to part with her Cleansweep, but one ride on the Nimbus convinced her otherwise. She held out the two brooms to George as she returned. "Pick one, I love both,"

He shook his head, looking more miserable than she'd seen anyone look ever before. "Lifelong ban, remember?"

"From Quidditch," Erin nodded. "Not _flying_. Playing Quidditch. Not messing around on a Thursday afternoon."

He looked confused for a moment, and broke unto a wide smile and let out a whooping laugh. He snatched the broom closest to him, the Cleansweep, and took off. Erin waited a moment, and took off after him, letting a smile stretch across her face.

* * *

Hooray! Another chapter! School starts in six days for me- gross. So I'm trying to get two or three chapters out before it starts. I know I said I finished writing, but I review a chapter at least ten times before posting. Thanks for reading! Please review!


	12. Chapter XI

"Fisher, see me after class," Snape said, sounding bored. Naomi looked guiltily to Erin as she took the glass of water, and dumped it on herself. Erin nodded, resisting the urge to gulp, and stared moodily at the board the rest of the class.

After a tedious hour of practical potions, Naomi said to Erin, "I'll wait outside for you," and Erin nodded. She slowly approached his desk, and stood opposite of him.

Snape waited for the last lingering Hufflepuff to sweep up his ingredients and hurry away. "The next game, there are scouts from Ireland and England coming to watch both teams,"

Erin was taken aback, "I want to do Arithman-"

"Do not lie to me." Snape said coldly. "You may be better at hiding the truth than most, Fisher, but not from me. You may want to try occlumency. Should you play well enough, there's no need to tryout. I suggest you practice during your free period. Do not forget about that essay," He motioned for her to leave, and she did so, her face frozen in shock.

She walked next to Naomi on their way to the Slytherin common room. Naomi was complaining about Warrington and how he threatened to cut her hair off. Erin nodded absentmindedly, running a hand through her own hair, detangling the knots.

_Ireland. But I don't really care about them, do I?_ In fact, the more Erin thought about Quidditch, the less she wanted to play for Ireland. She didn't even care whether they thought she was good enough to play for them. But England! _England!_ Her home, the one country she loved more than anywhere else in the world, was going to scout for her directly! The possibility of a direct draft swept over her, and she said suddenly, "I've got to go practice," and whisked past Naomi to grab her broomstick.

* * *

_That lasted about five minutes_, Erin thought to herself as she soared, quaffle in hand, downwards toward her team. _That Chang girl is way better than I thought._

As soon as she landed, Flint turned on her. "You were right by Chang!" He shouted. "You should have knocked into her, or blocked the snitch, or something! This is your fault! Now, we're never going to get into the finals!"

Erin stood, looking at him for a moment. Flint then snatched the quaffle out of her reach, and threw it at the ground. Erin, thinking he was attacking her, moved, and the quaffle hit her knee, _hard_.

"MERLIN, FLINT! Do not blame _me_ for _your_ problems!" She screamed out in pain, and grabbed the quaffle. She threw it at his head in her fit of rage, and he fell to the ground, moaning, and then he turned silent.

Dimitri rushed to Flint and hit his face a few times. "I think he's knocked out,"

Erin shook her head, and ignoring the stares of her team, rushed out to the locker room hallway. She attempted to stop her limp, but it did not work. Once out of sight, she lofted her robe to observe her knee, to find it bleeding and bruised. She did not know how long she stood there, wishing she would stop crying. She wiped her face on the bloody sleeve of her Quidditch robe. _Then again, _she thought, _why should I? I'm probably going to fail my N.E.W.T.s, England will never draft me, and _"my knee bloody hurts,"

"Come now, it can't possibly hurt that bad," came the unmistakeable voice of George Weasley. He stood right in front of her, and she unwillingly let out a sob, lowering her head to glare at her toes.

"I've never played so horribly in my entire life. Everyone did better than me, even Flint! I had like five minutes of playing time,"

"Six and a half, actually-"

"This is all your fault," she moaned, and suddenly stepped back, looking at him.

"How was that my fault?"

"You kept staring at me. It was unnerving. You keep managing to get inside my head, and it's bloody annoying!"

George couldn't keep a grin from sliding into his face. "Inside your head, am I? All I did was come to a Quidditch match,"

Erin's lip quivered and she looked down again. "That was horrible,"

"It was fine,"

"I knocked him out, George," she mumbled, and let out another despairing wail. He reached forward to stroke her hair with one hand, and kept one arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. "Now they won't ever draft me, no one will. I'll fail all my N.E.W.T.s and end up as a trampy barmaid. But then I'll be horrible and I'll get fired and be that creepy old man who looks at the third years,"

"Cheer up, you've always got a shot at dramatics," George laughed. "And you'd probably be fine as a trampy barmaid,"

She muttered, "Oh, how would you know," into his shirt.

He rolled his eyes. "Now you're just being stupid,"

She sniffed, ignoring his comment. "George, I need to play. I need to."

George stood up straight and placed a finger under her chin. He raised it to its usually jaunty level and said, "Honestly, it was one bad move. If they based it all off of one game, professional quidditch would be a joke. Plus, you still have the tryout," She looked at him, and blinked away another tear. "Now put on that damn smirk of yours, and get that knee fixed."

She smiled-not smirked- and wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting herself onto her toes as she did so. "Thank you, George," she whispered.

"Fisher, Weasley, split it up or I'll give you another detention for-"

"Yes, Professor," they chorused at Professor Vector. "She hates me," they muttered together, as George helped a limping Erin out to the castle.

"Pranks," George explained.

"I said her class was easy and haven't gotten less than an O since,"

George roared with laughter at that. "I suppose there's always Arithmancy teacher on your career list,"

"When hell freezes over," she muttered, "maybe," and George laughed a little more.

Suddenly, her mood shifted, and she stepped away from him. "What's the matter?" He asked, turning to face her.

"It was your fault in the first place!"

"Huh?"

"You conniving little rat!"

"What the hell did I do!" George, bewildered, quickly grew frustrated.

"I said you were in my head, and you just did it again! Stop it, just leave me alone!" She pressed her hands against her ears and sank to the ground, pressing her back up against the wall. George leaned down, gently prying her hands from her ears, and placing them in her lap. He sat next to her against the wall.

"Do you want me to ignore you like you do me?" She was quiet, and finally, she shook her head. "Good," George said. "Because we're sort of a weird version of friends now, aren't we?"

She snorted, but did not disagree. They were quiet for sometime, and finally, Erin said in a begrudging tone, "Yeah, I suppose we are,"

After a moment, they heard the clacking of heels, and a "_hem, hem_,"

"Dolores, I do not believe this is necessary,"

"Really, Severus, the girl behaved entirely inappropriately, it is only fair that she be punished,"

"And Flint?"

"Did nothing wrong that I could see,"

The two professors turned the corner as Erin and George stood up, horror written all over their faces.

"Bloody Merlin," Erin muttered, so only he could hear.

"Miss Fisher," began Umbridge, "That was entirely inappropriate behavior, and-"

"But I-"

"No buts, Miss Fisher. Firstly, detention with me will be necessary-"

"Professor, it was Flint! He-"

"And I believe Mr. Weasley's punishment may benin order for you as well,"

Erin squeaked, her eyes growing wide with fear and dismay. "No, Professor, I didn't do anything!"

"I did, Professor," George said, stepping forward in front of Erin. "I hexed her from the stands, and it hit arm, so it looked like she threw it at Flint when she was mad,"

Professor Snape raised his eyebrows and Umbridge gaped at George, her mouth opening and closing blankly. "Very well," Snape said, "Weasley, detention for two weeks, with Filch, and Fisher, go to the Hospital Wing,"

Erin simply stared at the three of them. The two professors left, and George turned to a shocked Erin. "I- you're not supposed to do that-"

He shrugged. "She already took away Quidditch. Besides, I owed you one for getting me to fly that day,"

She launched herself at him, burying his face into his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. His arms copied hers as she said, "You told me friends don't keep track of that,"

He laughed.

* * *

Erin found herself on Saturday morning walking around the lake with Abigail. It was still partially frozen, and some people fooled around, seeing how far they could go out onto the ice. The majority of students were at Hogsmeade, being Valentine's day weekend. Erin had opted out, seeing as Naomi had a date.

"Why don't you smile more?"

Erin sighed. "We've been through this before, Abigail,"

"No we haven't," she insisted. "You explained why you don't ever smile, but you haven't explained why you do smile,"

"I- What?"

"You smile when you think of playing for Ireland,"

"Just playing in general, I decided,"

Abigail nodded thoughtfully and continued, "and you smile around George Weasley sometimes,"

"Wrong," she said, shaking her head. Slowly though, a striking moment of deja vu hit her, and she was reminded of one week ago:

_Somehow, she found herself roaming around the lake with George Weasley._

_"Why do you smile about Quidditch, but only when people can't see you?"_

_Erin shrugged. 'Dunno, I suppose it's just easier,"_

_"Aren't there any other reasons to smile?"_

_"I don't need anymore, right?"_

_"Wrong," he snorted, shoving his hands in his cloak pockets. "You smiled when I snorted that one time, in Filch's office. Don't even tell me you were thinking about playing,"_

_"You remember that?" Erin asked incredulously._

_George shrugged this time. "Sure, it was the first time you smiled,"_

_Erin laughed, and she leaned in to nudge him with her shoulder. "Well, maybe you could be a reason to smile?"_

_"Want to go with me to Hogsmeade?" He had said, cutting off her laughter. She'd gone pink, and suddenly, Fred had shown up, and dragged George away._

Erin shook her head, escaping the memory. She'd been so foolish, talking like that. She avoided him all week, not realizing George Weasley would plague her thoughts and dreams all week. Hopefully, he'd forgotten by now.

"Erin?" Abigail called. "Erin are you listening to a word I say?"

"No," Erin said distantly. "No, I am not listening in the slightest."

For her sister's sake, she laughed, and tugged her along to the edge of the lake where they played the game they saw earlier.

* * *

She was in the library when it happened. A first or second year came running in, screaming to Madam Pince about fireworks. The librarian promptly started shouting protective spells over her books, while Erin packed up her books quickly, and followed the crowd out to the Entrance Hall.

There they were, flying casting spells, with gigantic fireworks zooming around them.

"Give her hell from us, Peeves," One of them called, and the poltergeist saluted him. They took off, looking back only once. One of them gave a small wave, looking right at her. She was so entranced by their exit, she was compelled to wave back.

And then they were gone.

* * *

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Umbridge was frightening. She assigned a chapter at the begining of each class, and the homework would be to write a footlong essay on the subject. She would yell at anyone who made a noisy page turn or coughed.

Erin found herself looking at George's empty desk. He should be there. She wasn't sure what to do with herself. He used to visit her in corridors or at practice, but now she found herself glaring at random first years and empty stands.

One day in Defense class, Erin forgot to open the book and pretend to read. Instead, she allowed herself to absentmindedly stare at George's empty chair.

_I wonder what they're doing? Right now. Probably running the store they opened- but no students can go yet. There's got to be parents looking for birthday gifts though, or the people who just graduated. I wonder If he ever thinks about me? Why doesn't he owl or floo-_

"Is there a problem, Miss Fisher?"

"What?" She said stupidly, and someone sniggered in the back of the room.

"Open your book,"

Erin gripped the edge of her book, a frown on her face. Then, all at once, something came over her. She was shaking with anger. This woman was the reason she would probably never see either of the twins again. This horrible woman essentially ruined her entire Hogwarts routine!

"No," she said, standing. She dropped the book cover with a snap, scooped it up and strode over to Umbridge's desk. "You can have this stupid book. There's not one mention of anything _actually_ dangerous in here. You'd think the real world was like Lupin's obstacle course!"

There were a few laughs, and one person shouted, "Hear, hear!"

Erin dropped the book on a teacup, which smashed; she was tempted to throw it at Umbridge, but contained herself. She started for the door, and Umbridge, red in the face, spluttered, "What? Where are you going?"

"Doesn't matter. Just away from you, you rotten old toad."

"Detention!" She shouted in a last effort.

Erin smirked. "Nice try," and she opened the door. As she stepped out into the hallway, she heard a muffled scream, and the door burst open again, and a few Weasley fireworks followed her out. She heard another scream of detention, but ignored it. The fireworks seemed to follow her as she headed down the hallway, a definite spring in her step.

_I never have to do that again. I could just leave_, She thought. _I do have Quidditch,_ and she fingered the card she kept in her pocket.

"Hey!" Someone called, and Erin turned to find Lee Jordan chasing after her.

"Lee Jordan," he said, extending a hand. "You can call me Lee, please I'm your new biggest fan," He pretended to feel faint in her presence, and she laughed.

"You can call me Erin. I like your commentary,"

He grinned. "Even when I called you a 'mutinous, slimy Slytherin who can't-'"

"Well, not that part," She conceded. "There's still an hour left of class," she said slowly, pointedly.

"Well," he shrugged. "I took a page out of your book. I don't even need this class. I took it, hoping for another Lupin. What even happened back there though?"

Suddenly, she felt so trusting of Lee, because he was the only one who followed and she showed him the card. "Look what I've got,"

His eyes grew wide as he read it. "Blimey," I guess you are that good. You should have been in Gryffindor; it would have been loads easier to get the cup,"

Erin snorted as she took the card, placing it back in her pocket. As they conversed, she found herself looking at the fireworks around them, changing shapes in a lazy way.

"You really miss them, don't you?" Lee said slowly, quietly. Erin frowned, nodding after a moment. "I've got other friends, but you, just Young. Did they tell you what was going to happen?" Erin looked down, and shook her head, choosing not to speak. "Really, there's only a month of school left." Lee continued. "We'll see them again."

Erin shrugged. "Dunno," she said quietly. "I've got tryouts and training then, and if I don't make it-"

"Please," Lee rolled his eyes. "I've followed Quidditch since I was born. You'll get to England, no doubt about it,"

She grinned and mumbled a "Thanks,"

"And you'll see them, at least, you will if George has any say in it,"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, he's never exactly been subtle, has he?"

Erin was growing frustrated. "What?"

"Nevermind, it's not my place to say. I better get going," He said, turning. "See you around."

"See you,"

And as he turned away, Erin didn't wonder what he wanted. He just wanted to talk, to make a new friend.

Without Umbridge hanging over her head, the rest of the school year flew by. She had a brief conference with Snape, in which he rolled his eyes a lot, but she knew the smirk glued to his face was directed at Umbridge, not her. When Umbridge tried to use expulsion, the teachers rallied behind her, and Umbridge was forced to let Erin continue at Hogwarts. Even McGonagall gave her a wry smile once in the corridor.

With Lee and Naomi by her side as a strange group of three, they set loose fireworks and tricked first years into going through the portable swamp. She also studied, but more with Naomi than Lee, who was going into the Department of Communications, and only needed Charms and Muggle Studies.

After the frenzied month that involved Voldemort and Harry Potter news quite a bit, Dumbledore returned and Umbridge was gone. Erin felt decent about her N.E.W.T.s, as did Naomi and Lee.

In no time at all, Hogwarts was over.

* * *

I do not own the knocking-Flint-out-with-a-quaffle part of the plot, that was Moony Loves Padfoot's idea, and it was lovely, so I used it. Thank you to all the reviewers, I get so excited when I see them pop up! Thanks for reading, please review!

Lots of love (blows twenty million kisses),

Slipping All Over My Ships


	13. Chapter XII

Erin hurried down the street, wriggling doorknobs along the way. She could hear the spells cast and the shouts of laughter a few blocks behind. Finally, a purple door opened, and she found herself in a narrow shop with shelves of products.

"Oi!" someone called. "We don't open until- oh, it's you," It was one of the Weasley twins. Erin turned to close the shutters of the window next to her.

"They're having another raid, I'm sorry, it was the only open door, and-"

"'S alright," the twin said, waving a hand. "They're bloody annoying though, drive away all the early business." As Erin came further into the shop, inspecting the shelves with her hand behind her back, the twin called, "Oi! George! We've got a visitor!"

"Well tell them to shove off, I'm busy!"

Fred laughed and grinned at Erin, who gave him a sly smile back. "Don't know if you want me to do that, mate," Fred called back to his twin, and came over to stand by Erin. He began to explain the tricks she was looking at: puking pasties.

George came around the corner, grumbling to himself, "Well, why the bloody hell wouldn't- Erin!"

Fred stopped his explanation and the two turned to look at him. Erin gave him a sideways grin. "There's a raid going on," she explained, placing her hands behind her back, and they could hear the shouts growing louder. He nodded, and began grinning.

"What are you doing here so early anyway?"

"I work at Madam Malkins, still," she said, gesturing to the navy robes she wore. She then waved her hands at the rest of the room, "You two have made quite a name for yourselves,"

They laughed, and Fred said, "So have you, don't you get _Quidditch Weekly_?" She shook her head, and he made a dash for the counter, snatching a copy of the magazine. "Look! You're on the _Players To Watch_ list!"

Erin's eyes grew wide and she snatched the magazine, flipping through the pages. There, a picture of her stood with nine others- the top ten reserves. Erin stared at the picture of herself. The English blue robed Erin gave herself a sly, one-sided grin and crossed her arms, putting most of her weight on one leg, occasionally switching positions. "Wow," she said softly. "That's amazing!"

The twins laughed, and Fred took the magazine from her. "Let's not get a swelled head now,"

"Why do you still work at Madam Malkins?" George asked, changing topics and frowning slightly.

"They give us the minimum; England tries to weed out the people only in it for money. Eventually they might raise the salary, but it won't be much. So I kept the job for the money. Abigail, Naomi, and I live in a flat in muggleLondon down the street, so it's not that hard to get to and from work," she explained, leaving an awkward silence. She cleared her throat. "But really! Look at you two! Not half a minute goes by where I don't hear something at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes,"

They grinned, and the three exchanged light-hearted talk until the raid ended. George opened the shutters, and Fred went to the back to grab the daily tricks.

"I missed seeing you, you know," George said quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Hmm,"

"What?"

She turned away to look at the products. "You didn't act like it. You could've owled, or flooed, or told me what you were planning-"

"They were searching all the owls, I don't want Umbridge reading my letters. Plus, she blocked all the floo networks, and we didn't tell anyone,"

"Fine," she said sadly.

"Plus, if you missed me, you could've come and visited. It's been over a year," he pointed out, and she shrugged.

"We look the same, maybe a little bit older, though."

"We are the same, just a little bit older," he moved half a step closer to her.

Erin smiled at him, but said nothing. When George turned to face her properly for the first time that day, however, her eyes widened, and she gasped, taking a step back to steady herself. "Merlin, where the hell is you ear!" She yelled the last bit, and the was a shout of laughter from Fred in the back. Thinking it was some sort of prank, she reached forward, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she rose on her toes to view the hole at eye level. She closed a fist where it would be and came back empty handed.

"Er, Snape hexed it off,"

"Aright, I'm going to be late for work," she said faintly, and scramble to the door, steadying herself on the door handle. "Bye," she squeaked, and slammed the door, looking like she had a jelly-legs curse place on her.

"Oi, Fred," George called, and Fred emerged, carrying a large box. "Reckon I scared her off?"

"Mate, if she was going anywhere, you would have scared her off a long time ago,"

* * *

One month later, they had not talked, but it was one of those days for George: when he woke up happy. He sat up grinning, despite the early hour. He had gone to bed early, and decided to go for a stroll down Diagon Alley, leaving Fred to man the store, as he had him the previous week.

And of course, he "ran into" Erin. He had seen her, not dressed in the Madam Malkins uniform, just down the street, admiring a broomstick and being admired by a few little boys. As he approached her, he could hear their conversation.

"Do you have to practice everyday?" One child asked.

"Yes," she said, squinting through the glass at the price tag.

"Is it hard?"

"Yes,"

"But is it super fun?"

"Yes," she smirked, still paying little attention to the group.

"Can I have a souvineer?"

"No,"

At this, the youngest of the boys, around seven, sniffed. She frowned and turned to place her hand under his chin. "Chin up, mate. What's your name?"

"Charles Thomas," he nearly shouted, anticipation building.

"Fine, Charles. If you promise not to cry, I may or may not send you something in the next week," The group of boys cheered and ran away to their parents, one of which gave her a grateful look.

"You haven't written me still," Erin turned stiff when she noticed George.

"You haven't visited the shop,"

She shrugged, and turned to walk towards the rest of the shop. "Want to go for a walk?"

He grinned slightly, and their walk eventually turned into an entire day, filled with meaningless conversation and jokes.

"Fred came up with the idea, for younger girls, you know? Little balls of purple and pink puff- oh, hang on,"

He bent down to tie his sneaker, facing away from her. On an impulse, she leaned down by his missing ear. "Can you hear anything from this ear hole?" She whispered, and when there was no answer, she continued, "I think I might be in love with you, George. There, I said it,"

As he stood up straight again, he continued to jabber on about the unicorn hairs they had needed to create the Pygmy Puffs. Erin went the rest of the day with a slight smile on her face.

When it became late, they decided to part. "We should do this again," Erin smiled at him. "I don't talk to anyone but Naomi,"

"Alright, if you stop by the shop in the mornings,"

And she did. The shop always seemed to be crowded during the day, but in the mornings before opening, Erin and George caught up. She would sit on the counter, chattering away about her day while he took inventory, and George would bring her news of the war.

"Harry's off doing something, we just can't give up on him," and she would nod, even when his voice faltered.

* * *

On May 17, he said to her, "It's happening,"

"What?" Erin said, although she knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Right now, we're going to Hogwarts, through the Hog's Head."

Fred came hurrying downstairs, arms full of shield hats and necklaces. "Come on, let's go,"

"Are you coming?" George said, holding out a hand.

"I-what? Right now? But I-"

He shook his head at her stammering. "Come on, there's a battle tonight, don't you want to be a part of it? Don't you want to come and be brave?" He grabbed her hand, but she yanked it out of his grip, shaking her hand.

"I- I can't just _go_, George!"

He crunched up his nose as though he smelled something foul. "Fine,"

Fred gave her a small grin, and they apparated away.

Erin shook her head, confused and frightened. Without realizing it, she found herself running back to the flat, to scream at Naomi, "It's here! Some battle is going on, Naomi!"

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, fine. Have fun,"

"Oh, come on! Come with me!" Erin's eyes lit up at the idea. The two Slytherins going to fight. That would show everyone who's ever sneered at her.

She shook her head. "I am not going to that death trap,"

"Please," Erin begged. "He who stays neutral in a time of conflict-"

"Blah, blah blah." She threw her magazine on the ground. You can forget it, I am not going."

"Naomi," she said pleadingly. When Naomi did not respond. "You can get there through the Hog's Head,"

Erin shook her head and disapparated.

Three hours later, her found herself closed in by two Death Eaters. She looked around, praying for someone else to come, but could not see anyone.

"Impedimenta!" She shouted, managing to shoot right between them. _Oh, you idiot,_ she thought to herself. _You're a_ _bloody idiot for fighting. You're going to die for something you don't even care about! Shallow stupid girl- Just didn't want George to sneer at you._ She felt her shield wavering-

"Stupefy!" And Naomi appeared by her side, as they soon paralyzed the Death Eaters.

"Naomi! You came!"

"Duh!" She shouted back over the spells, and they moved on to another pair, assisting a young boy. "It was that stupid quote! You know I'm a sucker for them!"

Erin laughed, and turned to look at Naomi, her face instantly dropping, "Stupefy!" She shouted, however, the woman behind Naomi had already shot a jet of blue at Naomi, who crumpled to the ground.

There were screams around them, and someone attacked the woman. Erin felt faint. "Naomi!" She shouted, and it seemed like everything stopped around her. There was a voice, and everyone stopped fighting. Someone took Naomi away.

* * *

Hi there! So I just took a Mary Sue test (I just can't help myself) and I got a 45, and the advice was to start over your character...Whoops. I just really hope Erin's not coming off that way. Well I was pretty bummed and thought I would post and hope for a review because they make me smile, as well as follows, favorites, and even hits/views. Props to those who got the It's A Wonderful Life reference, I couldn't help it, what with a George who's missing an ear and what not. Watch it, and you'll understand (its a lovely movie for Christmastime especially). I'm posting another short chapter tonight, to finish up the war part. Thanks for reading!


	14. Chapter XIII

He had never felt this overwhelming sense of anger, sadness- suffocation. He did not miss the looks his brothers gave each other; he did not miss the sad looks Ginny gave Harry. His mother's worried looks were, rather than flattering, annoying, and it made anger swell up inside of him, and then intense irritance of his own stupidity came over him.

He was stupid, for thinking it would never happen. He was stupid, for thinking that he was the only one suffering. He was stupid for letting it go on.

For each and every opportunity he had to pick himself up and move on, there were two options: laugh and crack a joke, or wallow. So, he was stupid, and wallowed.

There had been a wake and a funeral for him. He had not gone to the wake- he had no desire to have the entire wizarding community ogling at him: the left-over Weasley twin. At the funeral, when the family went up to the closed casket to say their goodbyes, he had punched it where his face would be. There was a crack as his knuckles hit the wood, and Bill came to tug him away.

No one would mention him, no one would honor him the way he wanted. But he was just too bloody stupid and sat through countless dinners, watching his family members and their dates avoid jokes and send him pitying glances.

It was like he was drowning.

* * *

She had never noticed what a role she had played in her life. She was gone. Gone was her flatmate, the second sister to her, the one to tease her, the fellow outcast who had fought.

She was stupid. She hated that it was her fault. That it was her who convinced her to come with, because she'd been too scared to go alone. She knew it was stupid to feel guilty. She knew it was foolish to become hung up on one death; hundreds were gone, countless families were torn apart throughout the years, and she was not the only one overwhelmed with guilt. She'd cried for Lee also, and especially, Fred. But she was a different story.

It was a small and neat funeral. She had gone up to the headstone after everyone left, while Abigail waited for the bus. "I'm glad you never cut your hair," she said softly, and turned to wait with her sister.

Abigail would worry, and she could hardly stand it. She kept the same frown on her face, and let her chatter on about some mindless subject.

It was like she was the one buried.

* * *

"Go for a walk," Abigail said forcefully, throwing some robes at Erin, who said nothing, and did not let her mouth stop relaxing. It had been pernamately set in that since that night.

She stared at the ground, ignoring the people around her.

When she rammed her head into someone's chest, she finally noticed.

* * *

"Get the hell out," Ron said, taking a large box from George, who was going to restock. "Go home, I've got the rest,"

So he went, hands shoved in his pockets. People scurried out of his way, recognizing the red hair a mile away.

When someone didn't scurry away, he finally looked.

"You," They chorused softly.

She wrapped her arms around his torso, and his wound around her upper back. A small smile slid onto their faces; they could not help but bask in the warmth of the other, even on the hot summer day.

They tightened their hold on each other, not caring about the stares or cooing from passerbys.

It was like they could breathe.

* * *

Gaw! Am I allowed to coo at my own writing? I just really like how this turned out, and I can be proud, right? Well, obviously, he didn't just get over it, the next chapter there will be a bit of a time jump, but they help each other along. Thanks for reading, please review!


	15. Chapter XIV

Erin and George were sitting on the dark couch in Erin's flat, listening to the Cannon's game on the Wireless.

"He drops the quaffe, classic Cannons move-"

"It's my fault, you know," Erin said suddenly. She had been staring at the wall, hands clasped together in her lap while George commented on the game.

"What are you even talking- oh. Come on, you don't really think-"

"Good Merlin, don't you understand? You're just wallowing in bloody self-pity, it's disgusting! I'm the reason she's _dead_."

George fired up at once, "Fred's _dead_ too!"

"But it isn't even your fault! Look, it's horrible he died, but it was some rotten death eater's fault! He went on his own accord! Naomi would still be here if I wasn't such a bloody coward!"

"Quaffle recovered by Bulgaria-" The announcer's voice flooded the room for the second it took George to respond.

"You left before she said she was coming though"

"Oh, come on. I knew she was coming, I've known her basically my whole life- she could never just sit back, self preservation or not,"

"You _actually_ believe it's your fault? It's her own fault! She didn't have to go! She should've been paying better attention!"

"Folks, in the last few years, if Bulgaria has gone down hill the Cannons just fell off a cliff. Hit by their own bludger," the announcer tutted.

"But I saw the death eater- I _saw_ them, and I hexed him too late. It's my fault," she wailed, placing her face in her hands and sitting down on the couch again. George softened, anger forgotten, and sat next to her so their knees touched.

"Just look at me for a moment,"

She shook her head, and he gently took her hands in his own, forcing her head up. "You," he said slowly, "Are an idiot. Not for Naomi dying, for thinking you're the reason she's dead. Did you kill her?"

"But-"

"Did you kill her?"

"Not _inherently_,"

"Merlin, did you shoot a spell at her and kill her?"

"I could've shot a spell to save her-"

Frustratedly, he dropped her hands and stood up, running a hand through her hair. "Don't you have practice to go to or something?"

She stood up, her eyes wide. "Oh, George, I'm sorry, please don't be angry with me-"

"That's the game. Thank Merlin, after they lost that chaser I thought it would never end-"

"I'm not, really. I'm just mad that you're blind,"

"I'm sorry-"

"That's a lie," he rolled his eyes.

"How do you do that?" She ran a hand through her own hair, detangling it along the way.

"What?"

"Just automatically know when I'm lying! You've been able to do that since fifth year, and I don't understand what I'm doing wrong,"

He shot her a grin. "Maybe you're just not as a good of a liar as you've always thought,"

She pursed her lips and sat back down on the couch, as did George. "I don't think so,"

"Now see, that's a lie too. Now you're questioning yourself!" He let out a laugh, and was still chuckling when Erin turned away, her nose in the air. George rolled his eyes. "Fine. Maybe I just bothered to get to know you, the real you, rather than believing what you told people."

She frowned, then shrugged and nodded slightly. As she turned back to face George, she found he was closer than before. Her nose hit his before she turned red and leaned back. "I suppose that makes a little sense,"

"It makes perfect sense," he leaned back, placing his hands behind his head. "Did Naomi always know when you were lying?"

"No," she sighed. "She just let it go when she did. You're annoying about it, always bugging me, nagging my every move-"

"You make me sound like my mum,"

"I'm sure she's just lovely,"

"So you think I'm lovely then?

She rolled her eyes. "Perhaps. I'll be your mum's lovelier,"

"You can meet her you know," he said, lazily closing his eyes as though settling down for a nap.

Erin snapped a finger in front of his nose, and he jerked up. "Idiot. Wake up, will you? I do not need to deal with a sleeping George," he rolled his eyes and sat up, stretching his arms and yawning. "And," Erin continued haughtily, "Your mum would freak out. You told me they still look at you like it just happened yesterday." George nodded in agreement. Then Erin added in afterthought, "Plus, she would think we're were dating,"

When George conceded this, he stood, stretching. "I'm going back to the shop, Ron's got a date tonight,"

"Want some help?"

George shrugged. "Sure, but I'm not paying you,"

Erin rolled her eyes and stood as well, "Then I'm not wearing that stupid uniform. magenta, honestly,"

George laughed, and they filled the silence with mindless chatter, although their minds were elsewhere.

_Ph, Merlin, meet his mother? We're _not_ dating. He's just my friend, right?_ Erin gazed up at George, who was describing the latest prank idea he'd gotten. Her mind wandered back to the day she'd whispered into his ear._ But I think I really do like him. But he's never acted any different towards me. Naomi would know_. As she arrived at this thought, she let out an audible sigh, and George gave her a grim smile.

_Hell, she's a real wreck, isn't she? I'm a wreck too. We're just a broken down, beat up old set of gears. It just won't quite fit. She's just too- Erin-like, and I'm just me. Fred would have something to say, he'd have some convoluted plan to give me an idea for a real plan._

_But you know, she's not here anymore, _Erin thought._ But, I suppose he is._

* * *

"And it's Hawksworth, Flitney, Fisher, Withey, Choudry, Frisby, annnnnddd Parkin!"

George and Abigail cheered themselves hoarse at the sight of the team emerging. They flew up and circled the air, where the crowd roared.

"Welcome to the opening match of the season: England versus Wales! A home game, England is expected to win, after most of their team from their last cup remains intact. Edric Vosper, replaced by Erin Fisher, decided to move on and start a family."

The Welsh team was introduced, and the game began.

"The team seems in sync, as usual, but surprising! The newest chaser isn't holding them back! Wonderful!

At this point, Erin mockingly saluted the press-box, and Dawn Withey laughed as she shot a bludger towards the opposing chaser.

It was an exciting game, three hours long. England won in a landslide: 530 to 120.

After a short team meeting, they were dismissed, and Erin went to find George and Abigail. "We're people watching," Abigail explained as she licked an ice cream cone George bought her. She observed the crowd intently, saying, "Good game, you guys scored a lot,"

"What's up with Hawksworth?"

"He hates me," Erin said, looking down at the broom in her hands. "Said it took him years to make it, that I just got lucky,"

"That's horrible," George said, frowning.

She shrugged. "It's sort of true, I had good timing, what with Vosper quitting and all,"

"Hey Erin!" Dawn Withey called. "We're going out to eat, come on! Bring your friends!" A man with dark skin came and slipped a arm around Dawn's waist, and Erin grinned.

"You two want something to eat?" She asked. George opened his mouth to speak, probably to invite her to dinner himself, at his house. Erin could think of at least a dozen times in the past week when he asked her. Before he could suggest anything, however, Abigail interrupted.

"But I'm _busy_," Abigail whined.

George rolled his eyes. "These people will be gone in fifteen minutes, you can people watch better wherever they're going," When Abigail stood, taking Erin's hand, he continued, "I've got to go, Ron's taking the night off. But I'll see you later," He picked a piece of grass from Erin's hair and she brushed it back.

"I'll see you tomorrow, the store's closed...?" Erin said, and he nodded as he apparated away.

"Who's your boyfriend?" Dawn asked, moving to sit behind Erin on the trolley ride.

"George is just my friend,"

Abigail let out a huff and rolled her eyes. "Didn't look like it to me!" Dawn said, and turned to her own boyfriend. "This is Daniel Peterson," he shook Erin's hand.

"We'll I guess you're just partially blind,"

"I'd say that's you," Abigail said, staring out the window.

"How's _Cal_, Abigail," Erin said moodily, crossing her arms.

"He's doing wonderfully, thank you for asking. He got a girlfriend, Sandra Walters,"

"The Hufflepuff?" Erin said, confused.

"Yes," she said dully.

"Do I detect a hint of bitterness there?" Erin said leaning closer to her sister.

"No," Abigail snapped. Erin rolled her eyes, and soon enough, they had eaten dinner, cancelled practice for the next day, and gone home to bed.

_Maybe dinner with the Weasley's would be fine? Scratch that. Maybe I could survive?_

* * *

Ok, really this is just ok. It didn't exist but then I added it because otherwise it would be the second to last chapter or so- and I also needed more development on the 'moving on' front. Thank you so so so so much for all the lovely reviewers, I'm sorry for the continued shortness of this one, But the next one is long! Hope you don't hate it, please review!


	16. Chapter XV

"Want to come to my house for dinner?" George said suddenly. They were browsing Quality Quidditch Supplies, eyeing some the of brooms thoughtfully.

"I go to your 'house' all the time for dinner, remember? And you mine? Yours is a tiny kitchen table and a mattress with an old pillow."

"No, no, with my mum and dad. She's always having family dinners and everyone brings their friends. I never do and my mum gets on my case about it,"

Erin turned from the latest Cleansweep to look at him. "I thought we agreed it would be a bad idea?"

He shrugged. "It's been a long time, you know. Mum's sort of worried about me,"

Erin sighed. "Fine, I'll be your dinner da-friend, if you stop bloody asking me,"

"Da friend? what's that?" He questioned, and he led the pair out onto the streets.

Erin went pink. "Just a cough. My breath hitched in my throat for a second," when he looked like he would press the issue, she plowed on, "When is it? What do I wear?"

"Muggle clothing. If you can, that is. Dad's trying to get more of the wizarding community to dress that way,"

"Ok," Erin said, nodding, and she led him to Flourish and Botts; she needed a book on the history of England. "When?"

"Erm, tonight?"

Erin frowned. "Fine, I'll have to tell Abigail,"

"Great," he said, sighing with relief, Mum won't be biting my throat out then, just yours."

Erin rolled her eyes. "How bad can she be?"

A few hours later, Erin apparated with George on the front of their lawn. The moment they arrived, she stumbled awkwardly around, trying to regain her balance, and a plump and short woman with flaming red hair hurried out onto the lawn to grip George in her arms. "Merlin, Mum," he panted as she let go.

"Oh! Hello, dear!" Mrs. Weasley noticed Erin, who stood with her hands behind her back, keeping a small smile on her face.

"This is Erin," George said slowly. "My friend,"

"Lovely! Come in, come in," Mrs. Weasley chattered on about how everyone would be there tonight, and Erin gave George an annoyed look over her shoulder. He shrugged as they entered the home.

"So, what do you do, dear?"

"I work at Madam Malkins," Erin said.

When Mrs. Weasley's face fell ever so slightly, George interrupted, "She plays Quidditch for England,"

Erin looked embarrassed and ran a hand through her hair as everyone in the room turned to look at her. It seemed to be filled to the brim of about a million gingers.

"Erm, well, he's got a _very_ successful, um, shop," she said quietly. A red head with short hair and lots of burns came up to her.

"Charlie Weasley," he said, shaking her hand. "That's fantastic!"

"Charlie could've done that if he didn't go chasing dragons," George explained, moving closer to her ear. Erin felt her face burn red as everyone watched.

"Harry, Ron, go set up the tables," Mrs. Weasley commanded. "Hermione, Ginny, would you mind setting up the silverware?"

As Mrs. Weasley handed out chores, Charlie surveyed Erin through squinted eyes. "You're too young. Did you even have to go onto the reserve team?"

Erin shrugged, feeling her redness fade. "I was technically on it, but then Vosper quit to start a family, so I moved on. I've just only ever played a few games; last year got cut off because of the war,"

"George?" Mrs. Weasley called. "Come help me with the potatoes!"

"Bloody hell, woman," he muttered. "You've got a wand, don't you?" But he headed into the kitchen anyway, after giving Erin a glance she couldn't quite read.

Charlie waited a moment, then said, "He hasn't said something like that since the Final Battle," giving her a strange look.

Erin shrugged. "He's alright really. But it would be better if you guys just said his name, you know,"

Charlie opened his mouth, but Mrs, Weasley called, "Erin, dear? I could use you on potato duty, as well," Erin shrugged again at Charlie, and went into the kitchen. There were spells going every which way, and George sat in the corner, nursing a bleeding hand.

She snorted a laugh at him. "You can't even peel potatoes?" She said, placing her hands on her hips.

"They're _wet_," He complained. "My hand slipped,"

Erin rolled her eyes, grabbing a towel to grasp the potatoes she peeled. "Baby," she muttered under her breath. She looked around to see Charlie laughing in the doorway, and Mrs. Weasley giving her a yet another funny look. It passed before she could decipher it, and Mrs. Weasley went outside, saying she needed to check on the tables and chairs.

George moved to stand by Erin and showed her the cut on his hand. It was the length of a finger, and stretched across his palm. He wiggled it in her face. "Big deal," she rolled her eyes. "That's- ow!" She let out a little moan and examined her own cut.

"Not so fun, is it?" He said, taking her hand in his own, dabbing it with a towel.

"I couldn't see, you're just incapable," she said, tilting her nose in the air and turning her face away. She rested her other hand on her hip, and Charlie came, shoving the two out of his way.

"You two are hopeless," He said, and started peeling them on his own.

"Yeah, we get takeout a lot," George admitted, still cleaning Erin's hand, who laughed.

At this point, Mrs, Weasley returned, and she hurried over to Erin. "Oh, are you alright, dear? I'm sorry, we really need to just buy a proper peeler,"

Erin shook her head, wrenching her hand away from George. "Really it's fine, it was his fault," she inclined her head to George, who rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Is there something else I could do?"

"Well, go ahead and start breading the chicken, I'll get you a bandage," Erin smirked at George and did as she was told. When Mrs. Weasley returned, she insisted on wrapping up Erin's hand, and threw the bandages at George. Erin could barely contain her laugh, and he glared at her.

"George, go ahead and degnome the garden; I don't need those things smelling up my dinner," and he left, rolling his eyes.

"So," Mrs. Weasley started, "Erin, did you enjoy Hogwarts? What classes were you in? Did you have back-up plans for Quidditch?"

"Erm," Erin started, a little taken back, "I took mostly standard classes, plus Arithmancy. Hogwarts was nice, but seventh year probably could have gone better. There was Umbridge after all, and after those two left, it got to be a little lonesome," She bit her lip, expecting the woman to have tears well up in her eyes, to start sobbing about her son and yelling at Erin. Instead, she smiled fondly at the memory, and told her to continue. "I probably focused mainly on Arithmancy; I'd thought about going into some ministry department, but after I stormed out on Umbridge that was a little bit out of the question,"

"You stormed out on Umbridge?" Charlie asked, confused, and Erin relayed the story of that seventh year class, where she made friends with Lee.

"And your house? Did you have many friends? Were you in the same year?""

"Same year, I had one real good friend, Naomi," Erin said this without pausing. "She used to have this real wild hair that would catch fire in potions class. She drove Professor Snape crazy,"

Charlie laughed, and Mrs. Weasley, after placing the chicken in the oven, ushered them both outside. Erin was seated across from Charlie and in between George, and the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. She recognized her as something, Delacour, a contestant in the tournament. She introduced herself as Fleur, and Erin vaguely wondered how horrible she looked in comparison.

_My freckles probably look like acne compared to her. And look at her hair! _Erin vaguely ran a hand through her own, finding knots and tangles all over. _Mine probably looks greasy and disgusting. I'll bet Mrs. Weasley hates me. She knows I was a Slytherin, it's the only explanation, and she wants everyone else to hate me too!_

Erin sat up straighter, and Charlie raised an eyebrow, and looked at Fleur. "Oi! You're in my spot!" Erin recognized the girl as Ginny, whom she'd met at the Quidditch World Cup. Fleur smiled at Ginny, and moved down to sit by the brother with long hair and scars. Ginny sat next to her and winked. "No Phlegm for you tonight," she whispered, and Erin grinned, relaxing a little bit. She looked up to see Charlie having some sort of silent conversation with George, an argument of sorts.

Erin raised her eyebrows but said nothing, and turned at the sound of Mrs, Weasley, levitating trays to the table. She made to stand up and help, but George put a hand on her arm. "Don't. She'll get mad,"

"If I offer to help?"

"Yes," he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Erin frowned, but did as she was told, and remained in her seat.

"Hey, Erin, is John still there?"

"The scout?" She asked, and he nodded. "Yes, he's the one who found me. He was going to watch Marcus Flint, because he was a captain, and saw me instead,"

"Brilliant," Charlie said, his eyes dancing as he glanced again at George. "Was William with him?"

Erin nodded. "Said I'd be good for advertising,"

"Because she's got a temper," George said, rolling his eyes.

"I've not said _anything_ to you, you nosy git," Erin huffed.

"I can see it," Charlie said, and the two Weasley's laughed.

"_What_?" Erin demanded, but the angrier she got, the harder they laughed. The plates of food suddenly settle on the table with a _thunk_, and a flushed Mrs, Weasley sat down next to Charlie and across from George.

"Thank you for your help, boys," she said pointedly at her sons.

"Told you," Erin said, smirking at George, who rolled his eyes.

"Dear," Mrs Weasley said as the family helped themselves to the food. "Do you live near your parents? I'd love to meet them sometime,"

George's fork cluttered to the ground, and he thunked his head going to get it. Erin grinned at him when he emerged, rubbing his forehead. "Erm, they're not really people-persons anymore, but thank you,"

Mrs, Weasley looked confused, but she plowed on to another question. "How exactly did you two meet?"

"If I remember correctly," Erin said dryly, giving George a look. He mumbled something.

"What?" Mrs. Weasley said.

"He and his stupid brother stuffed me in a bag first year, then dragged me to Gryffindor tower,"

"We only wanted you to try some of our candies!"

"Which I didn't want, thank you. I've never been able to smell very well since,"

Mrs. Weasley stared at the two of them, her fork frozen in place, probably, Erin assumed, at the mention of Fred. _He was dead_, Erin thought, _It's not like he never existed._

"George, did you really do that to this poor girl?"

"Well, she was a S-"

Erin kicked him and finished the sentence: "Serious jerk to some people, I'll admit," Erin said, shrugging.

Eventually, after more talk about Hogwarts where Erin successfully avoided her house, moved on to questioning Charlie about his love life.

A few minutes later, George and Erin were laughing at a joke he told. "That's probably the lamest joke I've ever heard," she gasped, clutching her side.

"But it works, right? You can't stop laughing,"

"Please, Charlie, even George can bring home a girl!"

Erin turned red, and her laughter stopped. "Actually, Mum, we're just friends," George said, clearing his throat.

Charlie rolled his eyes, and Erin heard him mutter, "Please,"

"Of course, I only meant, well,"

Erin smiled. "That's fine, my sister thought the same thing," Mrs. Weasley nodded, and turned back to Charlie.

"You know," she said to George quietly, "sixth year? I was going to tell her about my parents, and she kept asking-"

"What about your parents?" Ginny interrupted. George leaned around Erin to glare at her.

Erin waved a hand. "Just that they decided to move,"

"Where do they live now?" Ginny asked.

"Germany, technically, but they travel a lot. I stay here in a flat I used to share with my friend, and my sister," The flawlessness of the lie struck George. _She wouldn't ever stp lying completely, I suppose._

"What happened to your friend?"

"Dead,"

"Oh," Ginny said, but she was staring at her piercingly. Erin felt hot. It was fine talking about her friend in the past, but now, it felt horrible.

In about an hour, the dinner was finished and cleaned, and someone shouted, "Let's play Quidditch!"

"I call Erin and Ginny!" Charlie shouted.

Harry stood, calling out his picks: George and Ron. Eventually, teams emerged, and they headed outside. Ginny tossed Erin a Cleansweep, saying, "It's slow, but it's a small pitch,"

Erin grinned, glad to fly. She, Ginny, and Hermione Granger were the chasers, against George, Mr. Weasley, and Percy.

"This is not fair," George called out. "We want Ginny!"

After a brief argument, Ginny and Percy traded spots. Erin couldn't help but grin at her team. She and Charlie were the only competent looking players, along with Bill as a keeper.

Sure enough, when the game began, Hermione and Percy huddled in the corner, complaining about their predicament. Erin rolled her eyes, and followed Ginny closely. At one point, while she had the Quaffle, George flew in her path, moving out of the way at the last second, and she scored against Ron.

"You would've plowed right into me for a goal?" He shouted a laughed at her, and continued when she nodded.

She flew over nearer to Bill as Ginny charged the makeshift goal hoops. "You know, I think I like you!" Erin laughed and took the Quaffle from his outstretched hand.

It was a relatively lazy game; it felt more like an easy practice to her. Rather than grinding her teeth together, she'd grin and fly after the Quaffle.

Finally, it was later than she expected, and she said to Mrs. Weasley, "I've got to go, I told my sister I'd be home soon,"

"Do come again," she said, and they walked to the door,

"Thank you for the dinner, Mrs. Weasley, it was lovely, really," Erin said, and Mrs Weasley waved it off and gave her a suffocating hug.

"I'll walk you to where we can apparate," George said, grinning as he slid an arm around her waist. Erin looked up at him but said nothing, and allowed him to lead her out the back door.

The moment it shut, George said, "What was that about at dinner?"

"Please, do you really think a stinking Slytherin is going to go over well with the family that bleeds scarlet and gold?"

"They don't care!"

"Please. If my dad knew I was buddies with a Gryffindor, he'd have a heart attack." She crossed her arms and leaned to the side.

"Oh, come on. Don't pull that card,"

"Well, if they were around, they would freak out,"

Another moment of silence.

"It really doesn't make a difference," George said finally.

"No, I guess it's not that bad. But you can't tell your mother!"

"Alright."

Another moment of silence. "Tell your mum she makes really good potatoes,"

"I made the potatoes,"

"No, _you_ cut my hand, remember? Some dinner-date you are," she snorted.

"Ha! I knew you were going to say date earlier!"

"Bloody _git_," And there was a loud crack as she apparated. Charlie and his mother appeared to be in conversation when George stepped back inside, grinning.

* * *

Two weeks later, George arrived at Erin's flat, hands stuffed in his pockets after knocking on the door. She opened it, and grinned at him. "Hey!" She said.

"Hey," he grinned back at her, but tried pushing his hands further in his pockets. "Look, I have to go to work right now, but-"

"Wouldyougoonadatewithme?"

"I-err, what?"

She frowned. "Nevermind,"

"Right well, I'll see you later," he nodded at her, and left, feeling more confused than ever.

The next day, the two ran into each other again. "Hey, how've you been?"

"Better," George shrugged. "Go for a walk with me?" She nodded, and grabbed his hand.

A few corny jokes later, they were laughing and talking as usual, the previous day forgotten.

When the pair passed Quality Quidditch Supplies, Erin said, "Hey, I've got a joke, for once! What's a Quidditch player's favorite breakfast food?"

He snorted. "What?"

"Quaffles! Ha, ha! Ha, and you're not laughing," she stopped, pursing her lips.

"I mean, well-"

"I can be funny!" Erin huffed, letting go of his hand and crossing her arms.

"You don't need to be funny-"

"What do you call a bowl that explains things!" She nearly shouted, and before George could retort she continued, "Explana-bowl!"

He swallowed as she began to fake-laugh hysterically. After a few minutes of George simply staring at her, she stopped and said, "Ok, alright, fine. I'm not funny,"

"I think you're funny when you're not trying to be," he shrugged.

She snorted. "Like when?"

"How about...When you found out I'd lost my ear! That was a funny reaction. We're just different kinds of funny," George grinned at her, and she frowned.

"Well if I'm not funny, what do you even like about me?" She grabbed his hand again.

he paused, and finally said, "I don't know, I mean, on paper, you're a real piece of work-"

"You're not so hot yourself, you know! Needy redheaded storeowner-"

"But I think that's what I like about you. You're not the 'intelligent and brave' girl I'm supposed to end up with. Or like the Death Eater everyone expected. And you don't try to be like it at all. You're just you. I like that you snap at me, that you've got a temper, and-"

"My turn," she interrupted, swinging his arm, but he continued.

"And we can cut each other off and finish each others sentences-"

"Like Fred and you used to do," she whispered. "I remind you of your best friend."

"You are my best friend," He gave her an easy grin, which she returned, giving his hand a little squeeze.

"Do you want to know what I like about you?" And without letting him answer, she said,"I like that you like me. I like that you're my funny best friend, that I can tell everything. I like that you make me happy,"

She turned to look at him, stopping them in their lazy stroll, causing a man to sneer at them before going around George. "And I think I make you happy too, George," she said. He opened his mouth, but she threw her arms around his neck, kissing him full on the mouth. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

"By the way," He said, pulling away for a moment, "I can still hear from that ear of mine,"

"Git," she said, and she forced his lips to hers again.

* * *

Um, please don't hate me. There is one more chapter: the epilogue! I am posting that tomorrow. It's short and simple, don't expect too much! I do like it though. i hope you dont think that was a sudden ending... Anyway, I want to take the time now to thank each and every reader and reviewers. Also, my followers and favorites! Really, I just write for my own pleasure, and to know that even one other person enjoys it is the greatest feeling in the world. I have a few more stories in my mind, I'll set up a poll later to see which one to wrk on next! Thank you thank you thank you!


	17. Epilogue

Wow. I really can't even believe I finished it. This ending had been written for years, and I finally reached it. Again, thank you all too much. Really, I can't even describe this feeling. It's amazing. I could sing (if I could sing, that is). My baby is all grown up and finished brbsobbing. Thank you for reading, please still review!

Lots and lots of love (as in more love than I have),

Slipping All Over My Ships

* * *

There are many different kinds of people who live in the world: gossips, well-wishers, gold-diggers, hopefuls, hard-workers, and inventors. But there is only one Erin Fisher. And there are eight particular things about her:

Muggles are just people to her. They do not deserve her support, because they destroyed her family. But they do not deserve revenge, because that would be in vain.

She lies. A lot. Perhaps more than she tells the truth. Erin Fisher will lie to fellow quidditch players, muggles, and anyone else; she lies to stay hidden and innocent. And she is very good at it; perhaps too good. No one has seen through them, except for George Weasley.

Her first friend will always be Naomi Young. She will always remember her.

She does not care about being rich, and is a starting chaser for England. There are people who hate, envy, and lie to her because of it, but she knows who they are. And she has seen through their lies.

To the large majority of people her age, she is not beautiful, hot, or sexy, per se, but she is certainly not unattractive. But that is alright. Because to George Weasley, she is beautiful. And that is enough.

The smirk that no one could break, the one that masked everything, was broken. And it was ok.

And George Weasley loved her.

And she loved George Weasley.


End file.
